


Honour Thy Father

by Abi_A



Series: Honour Thy Father [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Credence Barebone Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Original Percival Graves/OFC former relationship, Protective Credence Barebone, Protective Original Percival Graves, Widower Original Percival Graves, angsty teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abi_A/pseuds/Abi_A
Summary: “Missing? What do you meanmissing?”Isolde Graves glares at Tina as fiercely as her father, it’s terribly disconcerting to see that expression on a fourteen year old girl.“We don’t know where he is -” Tina begins, gently, but Graves’ eldest daughter cuts her off.“I know thedefinitionof missing, I’m neither an infant nor an idiot! I mean how did it happen? How does the Director of Magical Security gomissing?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There were some "imagine if Graves had a family" posts floating about. So this is my imagining.

“Missing? What do you mean _missing?”_

Isolde Graves glares at Tina as fiercely as her father, it’s terribly disconcerting to see that expression on a fourteen year old girl.

“We don’t know where he is -” Tina begins, gently, but Graves’ eldest daughter cuts her off.

“I know the _definition_ of missing, I’m neither an infant nor an idiot! I mean how did it happen? How does the Director of Magical Security go _missing?”_

The twelve year old twins, Excalibur and Nimue, glance at each other. The boy and girl have been silent so far other than a polite how do you do when Tina had introduced herself.

“It means, Izzy, that he’s dead but they haven’t found the body,” the boy says, he starts his sentence off strong and full of bravado, but his voice is wavering at the end.

“ _Cal!”_ his twin slaps him on the arm with the back of her hand. She looks around the room wildly, her eyes flickering between her elder sister, Tina and the Headmistress silently pleading with them to say it isn’t true.

“Dead?” the youngest, his father’s namesake, squeaks and immediately starts to cry loudly. The eleven year old has been on the verge of tears since he entered the room.

“I hope you’re happy now,” Isolde says witheringly. She gets out of her chair and crosses over to stand by the bespectacled boy. He’s small for his age, Tina vaguely remembers hearing someone mention that the boy was ill a lot.  He clings to his sister, wrapping his arms around her middle. Tina sees Isolde's lower lip wobble as she rubs her brother’s back.

“I’m sorry, Percy,” Cal says, beginning to sniffle himself. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

The twins reach for each other’s hands without having to look. Nimue sniffs loudly and wipes her nose on her sleeve.

“Of course, it isn’t true!” Tina says and stops as all four children look at her hopefully, because it might be true. Graves’ apartment had been a mess, clear signs of a violent, bloody struggle having taken place, but she can’t bring herself to crush the hope out of them.

“I certainly don’t believe it’s true,” she says quickly. “Mr Graves was - is a very powerful wizard, he wouldn’t have-”

“If you don’t believe it’s true, why did you say ‘he _was’?”_ Isolde says.

“Miss Graves,” the Headmistress says sternly. “I understand this must be a terrible shock to all of you, but there’s no need to be so rude to Auror Goldstein.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Isolde says. She gives Tina a look of pure venom. “I apologise, _Auror_ Goldstein.”

“It’s okay,” Tina says. “I understand - it’s fine.”

“Yes, well your grandparents have been notified and you may leave with them as soon as they arrive to collect you. The term is almost over in any case. You may return to your dormitory now to gather your things and wait for them. You’re excused from classes under the circumstances.”

“But - “

“If you have any further questions, Miss Graves, your grandparents will be able to speak with your Auror liaison.”

“I thought _she_ was our Auror liaison,” Isolde says. She absently pats her steadily weeping brother.

“I am,” says Tina, feeling out of her depth, “and if you want to speak to me - you can call on me any time - if there’s anything I can do.”

“Do you have a card?”

“A card?”

“If I’m to call on you anytime, where do we call?” No one can be quite as scornful as a teenage girl

“Oh, of course.” Tina fumbles through her pockets until she finds one.

“This says _Wand Permit Office.”_

“Oh damn - sorry. That’s an old one, uh wait just one second. Here.”

Isolde is looking more unimpressed by the second, but she takes the card from Tina and pockets it. She hauls her younger brother up from his chair - she has a distinctly damp patch in the center of her robes.

“I’ll be seeing you, _Auror_ Goldstein,” she says. “Stop _crying,_ Percy!”  She takes his hand and drags him out of the room, the twins trail after them, hand in hand.

“You’ll have to excuse her,” Professor Walton says as the door closes behind the Graves children. “She’s always been _difficult,_ but her father encourages that attitude - encouraged - oh dear.”

“It’s possible he’s still alive,” Tina says.

“Oh I hope so,” Walton says. “Those poor children  - and after losing their mother so young! What a shame!”

 

* * *

 

“It was horrible,” Tina says. She collapses into her chair and picks up a cushion so she can bury her face into it. “The little one wouldn’t stop crying and the elder girl, Isolde, was so mad.” 

“Poor kids,” Queenie says. “I can’t help thinking about how it was for us either.”

Tina sighs. “I was mad for a while, but not like that.”

“What happened to their mother?”

“I heard she was killed during a raid on dark wizards six years ago,” Tina says. “I really hope Graves isn’t dead." 

“Poor things,” Queenie says again. “But thank Merlin they were all away at Ilvermorny this year. Can you imagine what would have happened if they were with him?”

Tina shudders. “It’s not worth thinking about,” she says.

 

* * *

   

By the following Tuesday, Tina is about to go out of her mind. The investigation is going nowhere. Her sources have clammed up - Gnarlak is being a real sore loser and word gets around. She’s running on coffee and cigarettes - she’d been doing so well trying to quit smoking, but with the Obscurial case and now the Graves case, you can hardly blame a girl for cracking under the strain.

It’s eleven am and she’s already on her fourth coffee of the day when she’s told she needs to go back to the office.

She hopes that one of her informants has been tempted back to sell some information, but she gets there to see the four Graves children gathered about her desk.

Isolde gives Tina’s evidence board a scathing look.

“You have a coffee moustache,” Nimue says. Her twin nudges her.

“What? I would want to know.”

Tina rubs at her top lip with her sleeve. “What are you all doing here?”

“We came to play houses,” Isolde says. “What do you think? We want to know what you’re doing to find our father ”

“Izzy,” Cal whispers. “Don’t make her mad.”

“Why? She should be mad, everyone should be. A dark wizard kidnapped Dad and took his place and no one noticed. Yes, I read the papers,” she adds to Tina. “How did you not notice?”

“He was very thorough in his preparations,” Tina says faintly, because how _did_ they not notice. “He must have researched Mr Graves for months and - where are your grandparents?”

“New Jersey,” Nimue says.

“We took the train,” adds Cal helpfully.

“Speaking of - can we have the keys to the apartment? I don’t want to go back there,” Isolde says.

“You can’t stay there alone.”

“We won’t be alone, there are four of us. And there’s Toby.”

“Toby? _Who_ is Toby?”

Toby turns out to be a large, fluffy squashed faced tomcat, who has taken up residence on Tina’s chair. He gives Tina a sleepy, but strangely perceptive look, blinks at her and closes his eyes.

Tina doesn’t think Toby has the energy to catch a mouse let alone defend anyone against a Dark Wizard.

“You don’t know, do you?” There’s a tug on her sleeve and Tina looks down into the anxious face of Percival Graves Junior.

“I -” she can’t lie to them. She just _can’t._ “We’ll find him,” she promises.

The boy’s face falls.

“Oh,” he whispers. He rejoins his siblings, slipping between the twins.

“So what about those keys?” Isolde says. Tina can’t think of her as with a name as genial as _Izzy._

“You’ll need clearance,” Tina says automatically. “I mean technically, it’s still a crime scene.”

“Okay,” Isolde says. “Get us clearance then. No need to rush. We don’t have anywhere to be.” She gives Tina a smile so sweet it sets her teeth on edge. “We can wait all day.”

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take _all_ day in the end, but it’s close. The sun is setting by the time Tina’s able to escort the four children plus cat to Graves’ city apartment.

As she turns the key in the lock a thought occurs to her.

“Your grandparents know where you are, right?”

They don’t look at each other, in fact they seem to be deliberately avoiding eye contact as they troop into the apartment, which has mercifully been cleaned and put back in order.

“ _Right?”_ Tina pushes.

“We didn’t _not_ knowingly set out to deceive them,” Nimue says.

“What?”

“We didn’t _lie_ to them,” Cal says. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay,” Tina says doubtfully, then she frowns. “But they _know_ you’re here?”

“They don’t like Daddy anyway,” Little Percy says. “They think he should have been able to save Mamma and Daddy says they’ve never forgiven him.”

“He didn’t say that,” Isolde snaps.

“Not to us,” says Nimue. “But he said it to Uncle Lance once when he thought we were asleep. Don’t you remember?”

“Shut up, Nim.”

“Shan’t!”

“Don’t tell her to shut up,” Cal says. “Just because Dad’s gone doesn’t mean you’re in charge.”

“Yes it does! I’m the eldest.”

“Okay, all of you be quiet!” Tina shouts, wincing as her voice gets shrill at the end. “You have to go back to New Jersey. They must be so worried.”

“I’m not going back,” Isolde says. “They said Father probably ran off and left us and he would never.”

“When did they say that?” Percy asks, his chin wobbling dangerously.

“Last night, after they thought we were asleep. Why can’t we stay here? Father would want us to be here - what if he comes back and is hurt or - or - “

“Call him _Dad_ , you moron!”

“Fuck _off,_ Cal!”

Her three younger siblings gasp at Isolde’s cursing. The twins start shouting at her together, their voices overlapping

“Dad said we aren’t allowed to use that word!”

“ _You_ fuh _-_ uh - I’m _telling!”_

“Yeah, well Dad's probably _dead_. This lady thinks so - all of them do! So tell whoever you want!” Isolde’s voice cracks at the end and she turns around furiously wiping at her eyes.

Percy starts to sob loudly.

“I do not think that!” Tina says. She’s so out of her depth. What is she supposed to do with a room full of crying children?

She tries to reach out to Percy but he shies away and runs to his older sister.

“Did it happen here?” Cal whispers. He reaches blindly for Nimue’s hand and she reaches back to grasp it, again without ever having to look.

Tina nods. “He was attacked here, yes. But listen, you can’t give up hope yet. You just _can’t._ And you can’t turn on each other either.”

“What would you know about it,” Isolde says thickly.

“My parents both died when I was twelve and my sister was eleven,” Tina says, quietly but firmly. She does feel so much for this hurting, angry girl, but she’s tired of her attitude. “Dragon pox. So I know _something_ about it. And your Father isn’t dead. We don’t know that, so you’d better start behaving yourself, Missy because if Cal doesn’t tell on you when Mr Graves gets back, then I will.”

Isolde turns around to look at her disbelievingly - all the children look sceptical, but they’ve stopped crying so that’s a plus.

“You can stay here tonight,” Tina says. “But you’re getting back on that train to New Jersey tomorrow, okay?”  

Isolde still looks mutinous but the other three nod their heads.

“Fine,” she mutters. “But what if -”

“I’ll let you know the second I know anything,” Tina promises. “I’ll Apparate there myself if I have to.”

“Fine,” the girl says again. “Do you think there’s anything to eat in here?”

Tina frowns. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Breakfast,” Nimue says. “But I guess we had some candy.”

“You ate _all_ of yours and _mine_ ,” Isolde says.

“You weren’t eating it,” Nimue says mildly.

Maybe that’s why they’re all so irritable. They’re just hungry.

Tina sighs. “Oh alright,” she says. “Do you prefer pie or strudel?”

 

* * *

 

They’re all fairly well behaved but quiet during dinner, though perhaps that’s just because they’re clearly starving from the way they wolf everything down.  

Although Percy refuses to eat his peas, and the twins have an eye on the apple pie all throughout the meal and help themselves to obscenely large slices.  

Isolde insists that they can clear up the dishes.

“Thank you for making us dinner, Auror Goldstein” she says stiffly.

“You’re welcome, Izzy,” Tina says. “And please call me Tina.”

“Okay,” the girl says. “Tina, please call me Isolde.”

She washes, the twins dry and Percy watches them with the big orange cat on his lap.

“He came to see us in Ilvermorny two weeks ago and kept trying to get us to leave,” Percy tells Tina confidentially. “Is that when … when -”

“Yes, we think that’s when he was kidnapped,” Tina says quickly.

“I didn’t know grown ups could be kidnapped,” Nimue says. “I thought it was only kids.”

“Of course, grown ups can be kidnapped!” her twin says. “We read about the abduction of -”

“I know about abductions,”  Nimue says. “But I thought it was only _called_ kidnapping if it was kids.”

Tina looks down at Toby, who looks back at her placidly. “He didn’t go to school with you?”

“No, he lives with Dad.”

Tina tries to imagine Graves living with this creature and comes to the conclusion that it suits him. If he had a pet he would probably want something as low maintenance as possible.

“Wait a minute - Toby came to see you at Ilvermorny? By _himself?”_

“He used to go with Daddy when he went,” Nimue leaves the other two to finish the dishes and comes to sit by them. “He knows how to take the train.”

Tina stares at the animal. “How _old_ is that cat?”

Nimue’s eyes glint in the candlelight. “We didn’t say he was a _cat.”_

“Is Toby a Kneazle?”

“We didn’t say he was a Kneazle either,” Cal says. “But we didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“Would the pair of you shut up,” Isolde says. She and Cal have finished the dishes and Tina sends them to their proper places with a flick of her wand. Isolde looks at it longingly.

“I wish I was seventeen,” she says.

“You will be soon enough,” Tina says. “And you’ve all had a long day, you should go to bed.”

“We can put ourselves to bed,” Isolde says. “You can go.”

“So you can all run off by the morning?” Tina says. “I’ll stay. That couch looks perfectly comfortable.”

“Don’t you have any children of your own to look after?” Cal asks.

“No,” Tina says. “And after babysitting you for the day, I’m not sure I want any. Go to bed.”

There’s some minimal grumbling, but they go upstairs without any major incidents.

Percy tugs on her sleeve before he goes up.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” he says quietly. “In case the evil wizard comes back.”

“Don’t worry,” Tina says, her heart breaks a little at his small, serious face. The resemblance is more obvious in Cal, but when she looks closely at Percy, he really does look a lot like his father. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

 

* * *

 

Tina’s woken by the sound of the howling wind, the balcony door crashes open, knocked off it’s hinges and  she jumps off the couch grasping for her wand. Toby yowls and bolts past her, running up stairs into the children’s rooms with a speed Tina hadn't thought the animal was capable of.

“ _Credence?”_ she gasps as the swirling black mass enters the apartment and it stops, ripples, _shimmers,_ and there’s Credence, looking remarkably the same as he always was, if a little worse for wear, holding up a battle bruised Percival Graves.

“ _Mr Graves_?” Tina can’t do anything but stare at him. He’s lost weight, his clothes are too big for him now, and his hair’s longer and he’s grown an impressive beard in the two weeks he’s been missing.

He holds his right arm close to his body, the wrist is bent unnaturally and there’s a nasty cut across his face - and more going down his chest disappearing into the tattered shirt.

He looks dead on his feet, but he’s _alive,_ and remarkably whole.

“Tina?” he croaks. “What -”

He’s interrupted by a cacophony of voices, slamming door and clattering of feet on the floor above. The four children stampede downstairs, and come to an abrupt halt when they see their father, mouths and eyes hanging wide open.

Graves sways dangerously on his feet and Credence wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. Graves leans heavily on him for a moment and then steps out of his arms toward his children.

“What,” he says, “are you doing out of school?”

Percy reacts first, barrelling into him, almost knocking him off his feet. The twins follow after and Graves puts his arms around all three of them the best he can. Isolde stays where she is, frozen to the spot.

“It’s okay,” Graves is saying to them, though his own eyes look suspiciously wet. “I’m here. I’m _fine.”_

Graves looks up at his first born child. “I’m sorry, Izzy,” he says, sounding broken. “I’m so sorry.”

The girl sobs and runs to him, she clings to his chest as she cries as noisily as Percy. Graves kisses the top of her head. “Shh, baby girl,” he murmurs to her. “It’s okay. I’m here now. It’s okay.”

Tina wipes away a tear or two of her own and turns to Credence.

“Where did _you_ come from?”

“It’s a long story, Miss Tina,” Credence says not taking his eyes off Graves.

“Well,” she says. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”   


	2. Chapter 2

They try to separate them at the hospital but Percival grips Credence’s wrist and refuses to let go when they try to send him out of the room. “He can stay,” he tells the wizard doctor. “I want him with me.”

The children - _four_ of them - complain about being sent away but Percival just as firmly orders them out.

“They’re going to have to break my wrist again to reset it,” he says. “I don’t want you to see that. Wait outside with Tina, please. You can come back as soon as I’m healed.”

Percival waves off the pain killing potion they offer him. He mutters something to the doctor about how his thoughts are already muddled enough. The doctor purses his lips.

“Imperious or Confundus?”

“Both I think,” Percival says. He leans against Credence. He’d abandoned any pretense of being perfectly fine as soon as the children had left the room.

“It's wearing off, but I want to go back to where I was imprisoned. It’s not strong enough to make me do it, but the compulsion is still there. And I’m not entirely sure where I am - this is a hospital, isn’t it? Credence?”

“I’m here,” Credence threads his arm through Percival’s, clasps his undamaged left hand between his own. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Lift your head up for me,” the doctor says. Percival ignores him in favour of looking at Credence searchingly.

“I dreamed of you,” he says. “Am I still dreaming? I’m still in there, aren’t I?”

“No,” Credence says. “No, you aren’t. I got you out.”

The doctor waves his wand over Percival murmuring spells under his breath.

“Level 4 spell damage,” says the doctor shaking his head. He gives the two nurses and his assistant a worried look. “Imperious, Confundus. Showing signs of the after effects of Cruciatus.”

“Can you hold him still?” the assistant asks Credence. “We’ll need to administer a calming potion. He’s done well to fight it off until now, but he’ll have a much easier time of it if he -”

“Let go of me!” Percival begins to struggle, tries to pull away from Credence. “I won’t take any more of your poisons, you fucking monster!”

“Mr Graves, it’s me!” Credence says, desperately. “Credence.”

Percival looks unconvinced but he stops fighting for a moment and it’s long enough for the assistant doctor to force a vial of something between his lips. He instantly goes limp, collapsing against the narrow hospital bed.

“Credence?” he calls weakly.

“I’m here,” Credence says, fighting back tears. How could he have doubted Percival for even a moment?

“It’s you he wants,” Percival whispers. “When he comes, _run.”_ Credence cries out as Percival’s eyes roll back in his head. One of the nurses pulls him away.

“It’s okay, honey. He’s fine. It’s just something to help him sleep so we can patch him up. Will you wait outside?”

“But what if he calls for me again and I’m not there?”

“He’s going to be asleep for a few hours  - and we’ll get you as soon as the healers have finished. Don’t worry, Credence. He’s in safe hands.”

The children, two girls and two boys watch him curiously when he’s led to the waiting room.

“Who are you?” the elder girl says.

Credence shrugs. “My name’s Credence,” he says.

“Credence _who?”_

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say Barebone, but that’s not a name he ever wants to be associated with again.

“It’s just Credence,” he says. “Are you _all_ his _?”_

 

* * *

 

Isolde watches Credence suspiciously as her siblings doze fitfully.

Percy has his head in her lap, she strokes his hair every now and then. The twins lean against each other.

Tina’s asleep as well, her head leant back against the wall and her mouth wide open. Credence wonders how she could possibly be comfortable in that position.

“Are you an auror?” Isolde says. “You don’t look like an auror. Are you in training?”

“No,” Credence says.

“How do you know my Dad? You never said.”

“We’re friends,” Credence says. It isn’t completely a lie.

“You aren’t like any of his other friends,” Isolde says.

“What are his other friends like?”

“You already said you aren’t an auror; and you aren’t old enough to be a school friend,” she says. “Or from when he and my mother were in auror training.”

“Is your mother an auror?”

Isolde looks more suspicious than ever. “She was,” she says. “She died when I was eight. What sort of friend are you if you don’t know about our mother? You didn’t even know about us.”

“A new one,” Credence says. He’s ashamed at the relief that floods him when he hears that their mother’s dead.

“Were you -were you -” the girl glances towards Tina. “Were you in that place with him? Where he was imprisoned?”

Credence shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I wasn’t _imprisoned._ But the man who hurt Mr Graves, he hurt me too.”

“If you’re friends, why do you call him Mr Graves?”

“Because that’s how we were introduced,” Credence says. “You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” Isolde says, but she gives him a wry, almost apologetic smile.

Credence is spared from being interrogated further when the nurse comes back. Tina and the other children wake up as Credence jumps to his feet.

“How is he?” he says. “Is he okay? Did he ask for me?”

Isolde shoots him a sharp look.

“Easy, hon’. One at a time,” the nurse says. “He’s okay. He’s gonna be here a few days until we’re sure all the curses have worn off, but he’s going to be just fine. He’s waking up now, so you can go in and see him - but not for long.”

She gives Credence a sheepish, apologetic sort of look before she asks. “Which one of you girls is Annie?”

“Annie?” Tina asks glancing at Credence.

“Annie’s our mother,” Cal says quietly. “ _Was_ our mother. She’s dead now.”

“Oh,” the nurse says, her face falling. “Oh I see. Well, follow me.”

They’ve moved Percival to a single room. The bed’s larger than the one he had been treated on and he looks small and shrunken against the pristine white pillows and sheets.

He’s awake but only barely. He tries to sit up when he sees them come in. His children crowd round his bed trying to get close.

“Take your shoes off if you’re going to climb up here,” Percival’s saying. “Watch the arm, Cal. It’s still healing.”

The _healer_ (that’s the proper word for him. There aren’t any doctors in the wizarding world) from before is showing Tina something on a clipboard. She looks at it and her eyes go wide.

“Take it easy,” the healer warns the kids. “Your Dad’s not out of the wars yet.”

Isolde sits at the foot of the bed, the twins seem to have taken their father’s instructions about their shoes as an invitation and clamber into bed with him, and Percy follows their lead.

“You’re far too old to be carrying on like this,” Percival says, but he holds them close and closes his eyes.

“Goddammit,” he murmurs. “I was afraid I was never going to see any of you again.”

“Now you’ve seen them,” the healer says. “That’s enough for tonight. Everyone out. You can come back in the morning. ”

The children protest and even Percival appears reluctant to let them go, but agrees when the healer threatens to sedate him again.

“Tina, would you -?”

“Sure, boss,” she says, a fond smile on her face. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

He gives each child a hug and a kiss before Tina ushers them out of the room. Credence wonders if he should go with them, when Percival reaches out to him.

“Do you have to go too?” he asks.

“You can stay,” the healer answers Credence’s questioning look. “But stay next to the bed, not in it. Director Graves needs to rest.”

Credence blushes up to his ears at the healer’s words. Does he think - but Credence realises with some surprise that he doesn't care what the healer thinks. He’d always been so consumed with fear and shame for what others might think of him. Now it’s as if he’s left all that behind with a different version of himself on that subway platform. As long as he’s allowed to stay by Percival’s side, the healer can think what he likes.  

“I don’t want to be alone,” Percival admits, in a half whisper after the nurse and the healer have left. “I was alone in the dark for - how long was I gone?”

“I’m not sure, Mr Graves,” Credence says. He takes Percival’s hand in his. “Two weeks. Three.”

“It felt longer,” Percival closes his eyes and lies back. “Credence?”

“Mr Graves?”

“You can call me Percival, if you’d like. Would you? I’d like that.”

Credence nods even though Percival can’t see him. “ _Percival_ ,” he says reverently.

“I dreamt of you,” Percival murmurs. “I thought - I thought I’d never see you again either. I thought I was going to die in there.”

Credence strokes his hair gently. Percival’s half asleep already. He won’t remember this in this morning.  

“You aren’t,” he whispers. “I found you.”

“You did,” Percival says. “He was looking for you. I didn’t tell him.” He lifts Credence’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. Credence draws in a breath sharply, his mouth has gone dry and his heart is pounding.

“I won’t let him have you,” Percival mumbles, and Credence wants to ask if that’s why the other man had hurt him. If that’s why the healers had looked so troubled when they said _Cruciatus_ and why Tina’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers when she heard, but Percival’s asleep and breathing deeply and Credence isn’t about to wake him.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I ever thought he was you.”

 

* * *

 

The room grows colder as the night goes on, and Credence is soon shivering. Percival’s hand is warm between his, they’re the only part of him that isn’t freezing but Credence worries about leeching all the heat away from him.

He tries to pull his hand away, but Percival opens his eyes.

“S-sorry,” Credence says through chattering teeth. “I d-didn’t mean to wake you.”

Percival frowns and sits up. He places the back of his hand against Credence’s cheek - and god, he’s so warm Credence can’t help leaning into it.

“ _Incendio_ ,” Percival gestures at the fire-place and has a fire burning there in an instant.

He pulls back the covers of the bed, moving over to make room. “Get in.”

“I’m f-fine.”

“You aren’t fine. You’re freezing. Get in. Don’t worry, I won’t touch you.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Credence says. It must be the cold that’s making him so reckless. That or all the magical, terrible things that have happened to him. He takes off his shoes and jacket, gets into the bed and lies on his back hardly daring to look at the man next to him.

“Okay,” Percival says slowly, as if he’s digesting this idea. He leans over Credence, his expression blank and undoes his necktie.

“You aren’t really here, are you?” Percival says to him. “I’m not really here.”

He presses his lips to Credence’s and kisses him softly, and Credence freezes from more than the cold. He’d wanted this for so long and now it’s happening he can’t move. Is this what it’s like?  Is he supposed to do anything?

Percival pulls back just as Credence is about to try to respond. The whole thing can’t have taken more than a second. He tucks the covers around Credence’s neck and drops a kiss on his forehead.

“If you are a dream, you’re a pleasant one,” he says.

Credence rolls on his side so that they’re lying face to face. “Would you have done that if you didn’t think you were dreaming?”

“Would you have let me if I wasn’t?” Percival says.

“Yes,” Credence says. “I’d have let you do anything.”

“You’re a sweet boy,” Percival murmurs. He takes Credence’s hand in his and holds it against his heart.

“I love you,” Credence tells him. “I know that now.”

Percival stares at him for a long moment and then closes his eyes. “Go to sleep,” he whispers, but he threads his fingers through Credence’s and squeezes his hand.

 

* * *

 

Credence wakes to the chatter of high, childish voices. He’s alone in the bed. Sort of.

Percival’s on his feet and looking through a suitcase with Tina. The four children sit on a row on the other side of the bed, their backs towards him.

“We brought you things,” Cal’s saying. “Clothes. And your razor.”

Percival laughs and rubs his hand over the scruff on his face. “Does that mean you don’t like my beard?”

“No,” Nimue says. “It’s scratchy and it makes you look like a vagrant.”

“Thanks, Nimmy.” Percival snorts, as her twin nudges her.

“What?" she says. “If I looked like a vagrant, I would want to know.”

“This is exactly why your grandfather thinks I’m raising you to be snobs,” Percival says.

“Grandfather always looks like a vagrant,” Cal says dismissively. “But he _is_ really mad. He sent you a howler this morning.”

“He sent _me_ a howler? Does he know I’m alive?”

“It was addressed to us really,” Isolde says. “But at the end he shouted at you too. He said it would be just like you to re-appear and send for us without bothering to inform them.”

Percival scowls. “It would _not._ ”

“I know,” Isolde says. “He’s just -” she shrugs.

“He doesn’t like you,” Percy supplies.

“I’m aware of that,” Percival says. “I suppose we ought to - I’ll write to your Nana. Let her break the news to him. And has anyone told your Uncle Lance what’s going on?”

“Your brother’s still undercover in Texas,” Tina says. “But they got the word out to him and he said he’d leave as soon as he could without compromising his cover.”

“Okay,” Percival says. “Good.”

Isolde looks over her shoulder at Credence and narrows her eyes when she sees him watching them.

“ _He’s_ awake,” she says.

Percival looks over at Credence and smiles. “So he is,” he says. “And there’s no need to sound so cross, Izzy. He did save my life.”

“Why was he sleeping with you?”

“It was cold,” Percival says. “Don’t be so suspicious. You aren’t an auror yet.”

Credence sits up as Percival removes a cut-throat razor with a mother of pearl handle from the bag. His hand shakes as he opens the blade and he puts it down quickly. He grasps the wrist of his other hand to hide the trembling.

“Hey, Tina,” he says. “Give me a cigarette, would you?”

“I - er - “

“You’ve started smoking again, I can tell. I’ve been gasping for one for  - er - for however long I was away.”

Tina looks crestfallen.

“What?” Percival says. “A cigarette isn’t going to - oh. _He_ didn’t smoke, did he?”

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

Percival glances away from her and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It wasn’t just you.”

It feels like a punch to the gut. Credence knows that Percival means the other people he works with, but _he_ hadn’t been able to tell either. Why hadn’t he really looked at the other man? Why hadn’t he seen?  

“What about that smoke?” Percival says quietly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Tina wordlessly offers him the packet. He takes one, lights it with a flick of his fingers - the trembling seems to have subsided for now, and walks over to the open window and leans out.

Tina sighs, lights a cigarette for herself and goes to join him.

“Mr Graves, I -”

“Don’t,” Percival says, his voice tight. “Wasn’t your fault… or anyone’s really. Other than Grindelwald.”

Tina nods miserably. “I wanted to give you the morning to yourselves,” she says, changing the subject. “But I’ll have to call the President soon.”

“Of course,” he says. “And thanks for the respite. I don’t think I could have dealt with her descending on me without warning.”  

He glances over his shoulder and his eyes meet Credence’s. Credence blushes with the memory of what passed between them the night before. How much does Percival remember?

Percival holds his gaze, his eyes dark and knowing. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke through his nose, eyes never wavering from Credence’s face.

He knows.

Isolde turns around following the line of her father’s sight and glares at Credence.

Credence looks back at her. He’s had some experience with angry, young teens and it’s always a mistake to react too quickly.

“What is it?” he asks evenly.

She shrugs and turns away. “When can you come home?”

“A few days I think,” Percival says. “As soon as they’ll let me. I’ll ask your Grandparents - “

“Grandfather won’t come,” Cal says. “He’ll say he can’t leave the farm and Nana won’t come without him.”

A pained look flickers over Percival’s face. “Then you’ll have to go back to them,” he says. “Just until I’m - “

“No!”

“We want to stay with you!”

“I’m not going back -”

“Why can’t we just -”

Percival winces at the noise, he raises his free left hand to press his temple and his children fall silent, looking at him with worried faces.

“I’m fine,” Percival says, through gritted teeth. “Just don’t yell, okay?”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Nimue says. “But we don’t want to go away and leave you. Why can’t Tina stay with us?”

A truly horrified expression crosses Tina’s face and Percival chuckles wryly. “Because Tina isn’t a babysitter,” he says. “She has her own job to get back to.”

“We could call Bitsy from the big house. She could cook and things.”

“It isn’t the cooking and things that I’m worried about,” Percival says. “Bitsy isn’t going to keep you out of trouble."

“I could do it,” Credence says, without really thinking. He shrinks back when they all turn to look at him, but catches himself. “I used to watch the kids at the Church all the time,” he says defiantly. “So I could. If you’d like.”

Percival considers this. "I don't know," he says. "It's not that I don't trust you - but they're a real handful. They don't  _listen -"_

"We will!" Percy says quickly. "We'll be good!" 

The twins nod eagerly in agreement. 

"Isolde?" 

"Fine," the girl says grudgingly. "If it means we can stay."

Percival looks at Tina. "This is a bad idea, isn't it?" 

"No!" Tina says. "I mean - " she pauses. "Actually, no. I think it'll be okay."

"Okay," The look Percival gives Credence is inscrutable, much like the way he'd looked at him after Credence had told him he loved him last night. "You're on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She lives!
> 
> Sorry this took ages to update. It's been a horrible couple of months. I hope it isnt too terrible.
> 
> Uncle Lance's first name is absolutely _Lancelot_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I don't know anything about cats or pre-teens/teenagers and yet here we all are.  
> my excuse is that Toby is not a cat... I have no real excuse for the little Graveses except they wanted to be written that way!

The first problem is the cat.

Like all cats, it acts perfectly disinterested when they arrive back at Percival’s apartment, but as soon as Credence steps inside it yowls and plants itself firmly between Credence and the children.

“It’s okay, Toby,” Nimue says. “He’s a friend.”

Toby hisses at Credence and arches his back, his fur standing on end.

“You’d think he’d remember you from last night,” Cal says, puzzled. “He saved Dad, Toby. Don’t you remember?”

“I’ve never seen him hate someone so instantly,” Isolde says, which may very well be true but, in Credence’s opinion, she needn’t sound so happy about it.

Credence takes a tentative step towards the cat. “Good kitty,” he tries but Toby swipes a paw at him, sharp claws unleashed.

Percy sighs loudly and impatiently, picks up the cat and tucks him under his arm, and walks over to take Credence’s hand. Toby snarls in protest.

“You be nice,” Percy tells the cat. “Or we’ll have to go back to the farm.”

He guides Credence’s hand towards Toby’s face - and what is this boy doing? Credence is going to lose a finger from the way the cat’s spitting at him. Toby shrinks back and cringes away, but doesn’t lash out.

“Pet him,” Percy demands in a loud whisper.

“I don’t think he wants me to,” Credence says.

“You have to be nice to Toby too,” Percy replies, "if you're ever going to be friends."

Credence doesn’t think that petting this creature when it clearly doesn’t want him to touch it is ‘being nice’, but he gingerly offers his closed fist to the cat.

Toby sniffs at it just as reluctantly. When he makes no attempt to bite or scratch him, Credence lightly touches the fur on the top of his head.

“There,” he says. Percy nods satisfied and lets both him and Toby go.

Toby stalks off with wounded dignity, pointedly looking away from Credence.

(Toby keeps his distance from Credence after this first encounter. He doesn’t try to warn Credence off again, but he’s always watching him like a silent squashy-faced guardian angel.)

“That was weird,” Isolde says. “Anyway, I guess we should floo the Big House to call Bitsy.”

 

* * *

 

The second problem is the all the questions that start almost immediately.

“The Big House,” is the house that Percival and his brother have inherited from their parents. It doesn’t see much use now that Uncle Lance is “undercover” and all the children are at boarding school.

“We’re all in Wampus,” Percy says. “Everyone thought I wouldn’t be, but Daddy said that he bet the statue would roar for me before I even got into position and it did!”  

“Only one house wanted you though,” Nimue says. “Cal and I both got Thunderbird as well and Izzy got Pukwudgie.”

Isolde turns red and glares at her. Apparently she doesn't seem to think that this is a good thing.

“Wampus is the only one that matters anyway,” Percy says.

“Graves’ are always in Wampus,” Cal says. “It would have been strange if it didn’t want you.”

“What house were you in, Credence?” Isolde asks pointedly.

“I  - er - wasn’t,” Credence says. “I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go?” Nimue repeats. “But everyone goes to Ilvermorny.”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?” Cal says. “Alexander Fontaine’s cousin goes there and he told Alexander that he heard a rumour that they were going to start the Tri-Wizard tournament again.”

“They would not!” Nimue retorts. “Too many kids _died.”_

“They do things different in Europe,” Cal says. “Dad said -“

“ _Did_ you go to Hogwarts?” Isolde interrupts, refusing to get distracted. “Or maybe you went to Durmstrang?”

“I didn’t go to Wizarding school,” Credence says, deciding that the truth is the least dangerous option. He doesn’t know nearly enough about these places to start lying.

“Then how did you learn magic? Are you a squib _?”_

“I’m not a _squib,_ “ Credence bristles. That was the word that the imposter had used. “I am a wizard, but there were some... complications.”

The four of them look unconvinced.

Credence wishes that he had had more time to prepare. It’s almost like they’re speaking a different language. There is so much that he doesn’t know, that he’s missed out on. He wishes that he’d at least had the time to ask Percival what he was supposed to tell them.

Percival had started to give him instructions - (get Izzy to call for the house elf, Percy sleepwalks sometimes so make sure the balcony door is always locked, don’t let them bully you) - when Tina had hurried back into the room and whispered that the President would be there any moment so Credence and the children had better leave _now._

Percival had been confused by her urgency, but he’d looked so achingly tired that Credence had simply placed a hand over his and assured him that he would manage.

Percival gave him a wan smile and squeezed his fingers. “We’ll talk,” he’d said softly. “Later. About - everything.”

Tina had handed Credence a set of keys and a hastily scrawled address. “And this one’s mine,” she’d pressed another piece of paper into his hand. “If you need anything, anytime - I _want_ to help you, Credence. And my sister too. And we’ll call Newt so we can do something about -” she’d glanced at a pocket watch that cheerfully told her that it was five minutes past eleven. “You should go.”

“It’s not important,” Credence says to Isolde with a sigh. “Weren’t you going to call the house elf. Whatever a house elf is.”

“He doesn’t know what a house elf is,” Percy says in a whisper that somehow manages to be louder than his speaking voice.

Isolde gestures towards the fireplace. “I don’t suppose you could -”

“Sure,” Credence says. “Got any matches?”

“Can’t you do it with magic?”

“Can’t you?”

“We aren’t allowed to do magic out of school!” Isolde says. “What _are_ you? Why don’t you know anything?”

Credence doesn't know how to answer that so he walks over to the fireplace and stares at it. What was the spell that Percival had used last night.

“ _Incendio?”_ he tries, his voice wavering. Nothing much happens… although, it might be Credence’s imagination but there might have been the tiniest of flickers.

“ _Incendio!”_ he says again, stronger and louder this time and then has to jump back before the resulting blaze almost singes him.

Credence grins with delight and pride. “See?” he says. “Told you I wasn’t a squib.”

 

* * *

  

Bitsy turns out to be an ornery little creature, constantly muttering under her breath.

"No-one ever tells Bitsy anything," she complains when Isolde explains the situation. "Master Percy gets kidnapped, does he think to tell Bitsy? Nooo. Bitsy's just a house elf. Why bother to tell her?"

"How could he tell you that he'd been kidnapped?" Isolde says. She sounds amused and indeed none of the children react to Bitsy's grumbling, so Credence thinks it must be just something that she does.

Bitsy waves off the question. "Bitsy ain't concerned with details, Miss Izzy" she says. "Details are for wizards. Bitsy's just a house elf."

Bitsy isn’t exactly a problem, though she too has questions that Credence can’t answer.

“Where is Mr Credence’s luggage?”

“I don’t have any,” Credence says. “I wasn’t expecting to stay here. It was a last minute decision.”

“Is Mr Credence going to fetch any luggage?”

Credence blinks at her, as he realises that he doesn’t have anything in the way of luggage. Any meager belongings he had were destroyed when - well, they were destroyed. All he has are the clothes on his back.

“I don’t have any,” he says again.

“She’s asking ‘cause your clothes are all crumpled,” Nimue says. “She wants to wash them.”

“Oh,” Credence flushes red with shame. “That’s - not necessary.”

"You could just wear some of Dad's clothes," Cal says, in a deliberately casual way that suggests he’s trying to be subtle about it.

“Yeah,” Izzy says. “They won’t fit, but that shouldn’t be a problem, right? You can just transfigure them.”

Bitsy saves him from having to answer.

"Bitsy will do it," she says. "Like Bitsy does everything around here."

“If it’s any trouble - “

Betsy sniffs loudly, “Did Bitsy say that it will be trouble?” she demands. “Besides, ain't no point in Mr Credence messing up any of Master Percy’s new clothes when his old things will fit him just fine.”

“Thank you,' Credence says carefully. "That would be very kind of you.”

“Bitsy does Bitsy’s job,” Bitsy says dismissively. But there’s no real bite to it and she seems pleased to be thanked.

 

* * *

 

The third problem is the pictures.

They’re spread out over the apartment. Most of them feature the children. They range from when they were babies, to one that looks like it was taken recently, just before they all left for school. The four of them are standing in their school uniforms. Percy looks miserable, Isolde and Cal are arguing, but Nimue smiles and waves for the camera.

This is what a normal family does. They take pictures and display them.

Credence wonders if any pictures of him exist. That newspaper man - Shaw - had taken one when he wanted to write that story about the Barebones and the Second Salem Church; he thinks that must be the only one. Though perhaps it’s been destroyed by now.

The problem is in the earlier pictures, when the children are younger. There, front and centre, is their mother.

She’s beautiful, with dark hair that marks the passage of time. It’s long and loose over her shoulders when she and Percival are new parents, beaming down at a small bundle that must be Izzy.

She starts to wear it tied up when the twins come along, and cuts it short a couple of years after Percy is born.

Credence watches them grow up in the pictures, from infants, to toddlers to the present.

Percival looks happy in the pictures. He looks content. He looks at his wife and children like they’re his whole world.

The last picture of all of them together is one propped up on the bookshelf. It looks like Percival’s appointment as Director of Magical Security. They’re dressed up for the occasion - the boys in suits identical to their father’s, the girls in shiny, shimmering dresses. Percival has one arm around his wife and is carrying a four or five year old Percy in the other. The other three children stand hand in hand in front of them. Izzy, the big sister, is between the twins, and she pulls them both firmly into position.

“Mother used to make us take pictures,” Isolde says. She’s crept up to stand beside Credence. “Dad tries to remember to take some of us now, but he doesn’t like having his own picture taken. He says he only ever agreed to those because it made her happy.”

And it's true, while there are a few later pictures of the children, Percival doesn’t feature in any after his wife’s death.

“I never knew my parents,” Credence says. He won’t think of Mary-Lou. Not yet. Not her, nor his sisters. Not today. Some other time when he can bear it.

“I’m sorry,” Isolde picks up a small framed picture of her mother and looks at it.

“Her name was Annie?” Credence says.

Isolde nods. “Antigone,” she says. “But no one called her that. Just Annie.”

“You have her nose,” Credence says.

Isolde smiles, but covers it up by touching her nose self-consciously.   

Nothing prepares Credence for the picture on Percival’s bedside table.

After she feeds them lunch, Bitsy disappears for a while and returns with an armful of clothing. She suggests, in a way that’s more like an order, that Credence go upstairs, take a shower and change. “Mister Credence can use Master Percy’s room,” she says. “Master Percy won’t mind.”

He doesn’t notice it at first. It’s not until after he’s clean and dry and halfway through doing up the buttons on Percival’s old shirt that he sees it.

It’s a photograph of Percival and Annie on their wedding day.

They can’t be much older than Credence is now. Percival twirls his bride, glowing and resplendent in her wedding dress, around. She throws her arms around his neck, gazes up at him adoringly and kisses him. As they pull apart Percival looks at her with complete devotion. They’re both so young and beautiful and so in love and Credence feels like a sneaking creep, intruding on their happiness.

Credence feels terribly guilty as he turns the photograph face down, but he can’t look at it any more. He doesn’t want to watch the two of them, forever repeating that one perfect moment.

 

* * *

  

When he comes back downstairs Bitsy nods at him approvingly. “Bitsy knew clothes would fit,” she says. “Now Mr Credence almost looks like a proper gentleman.”

“Almost?” Credence raises his eyebrows, but she simply clicks her fingers and Disapparates.

“It’s because of your hair,” Credence turns around to see Nimue sat in an armchair, watching him. She has a large book and Toby in her lap.

“If you wanted to know,” she adds. “I don’t know if I would.”

“I’ll never be a gentleman anyway,” Credence can’t stop himself from bringing his hand up to touch his fringe. He's always hated the terrible bowl cuts that Mary-Lou had forced on him. Pleading with her to let him have it cut properly had always resulted in a lecture on vanity and a beating so as he'd grown up, Credence had learned to never ask for anything.

“Daddy says that he isn’t one,” the girl says. “But people think he is because of how he dresses and who he is. He says more than anything you just have to know the right people.”

“I don’t know anyone, though.”

“You know us,” Nimue says. “And you know Tina. But I don’t know if that will help. None of us are gentlemen. It’s old fashioned anyway, but Bitsy’s pretty old.”

Credence smiles. “Thanks, Nimue.”

“What for?”

“Just because.”

“You can call me Nimmy, if you want. Or Nim. But I’ll hex you if you ever call me Moo.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“By the way, we had a pigeon from Tina while you were in the shower. She says we can go back to see Dad at four.”

“Okay,” Credence looks around. It’s worryingly quiet. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Izzy decided that we should take him some flowers so they went to get some,” Nimue says, turning her attention back to her book. “I didn’t want to go so I said I’d stay to tell you.”

“What?”

“I forgot.”

“But - _where_ did they - they went _out?”_

“We’re allowed out,” Nimue says. “We aren’t babies. Stop having kittens. They’ll be back soon.”

It’s a nerve wracking twenty minutes and Credence is debating whether he ought to go out and look for them when he hears the key turn in the lock.

When he sees what they’ve brought back, he forgets everything he was about to say.

“Is that a cactus?”

“It was my idea,” Cal says proudly.

“We couldn’t agree on what kind of flowers you should get a man,” Isolde explains.

“He doesn’t like flowers,” Percy confirms. “At least, I’ve never seen him buy any. For anyone.”

“So you bought a cactus?”

“I wanted to get a ficus, but Cal and Percy said that he would like a cactus more. It's a boy thing.”

“That thing is bigger than my head.”

“Yeah,” says Cal. “It’s real heavy too.” He puts it down on the floor.

“Couldn’t you have got him a cake or something?” Credence says. He can’t take his eyes off it.

The children look at each other.

“We didn’t think of that,” Isolde admits.

“Cake’s a great idea,” Nimue says. She pushes Toby off her, and comes to join them. Toby approaches the cactus with some curiosity, but when he gets to five paces of it he hisses at it and slinks away. “We should go to the bakery," Nimue continues, "I’ll come too this time!”

“No one is going anywhere!” Credence says. “We’re going to the hospital and - “

“We’ve got plenty of time!”

“It’s on the way!”

“But everyone knows that hospital food is terrible!

Percy tugs on Credence’s sleeve. “Daddy was locked up for so long,” he says plaintively. “He’s so thin now, Grindelwald must have _starved_ him. We _should_ take him a cake, he’ll like it.”

Credence has never heard anything so blatantly manipulative before but Percy isn’t _wrong._ The four look at him with pleading puppy-dog expressions and it’s a mistake to cave so easily but it’s only cake.

“Oh, alright,” he says. “But I’m coming with you.”

Percy turns around to grin at his siblings in triumph and Credence thinks that this is definitely going to be another problem. 

 

* * *

 

They arrive a little after four, after a rather trying visit to the bakery. Credence manages to convince them that Percival will be happier with a normal sized cake rather than a three tiered iced monstrosity, but allows them to persuade him that they should also get a dozen chocolate eclairs.

The twins break into the bag before they’ve even left the shop.

“I thought those were for your father,” Credence says.

“He can’t eat all of them,” Cal says.   

Isolde takes the bag away from him. “Yeah, but _you_ two can.”

Tina meets them at the door, and places a finger to her lips. “He insisted on debriefing me,” she whispers. “But he fell asleep. Is that - Credence, why do you have a cactus?”

“It was Cal’s idea,” Credence says, dryly.

Tina shakes her head. “Okay,” she says, doubtfully. "I'm sure he'll love it."

She's a terrible liar. 

Credence places the cactus down on the top of a cabinet that already has about four flower arrangements on it. It looks like many people have been to see Percival, no wonder the poor man is exhausted.

“Do you think we could shave him while he’s asleep?” Nimue says.

“Just sit down,” Credence says. “And try not to wake him.”

Cal eyes the pile of letters and papers on the bedside table with some suspicion. “What’s that?”

“Work,” Tina says.

“Was there a letter from Ilvermorny?” Cal says. “From uh a couple of weeks ago?”

“You’re seriously worried about that?” Isolde says.

“I don’t think so,” Tina frowns. “Wouldn’t that have been delivered to the apartment and not the office?”

“Maybe Grindelwald got it instead,” Nimue says.

“What if he wrote back?” Percy looks appalled at this thought. “He could have come to Ilvermorny and got us and no one would have known.”

“He didn’t so calm down,” Isolde says. “And so what if he read it? Why would Grindelwald care that you three got in trouble for fighting.”

“They were picking on Percy,” Cal says. “What were we supposed to do?”

“I can take care of myself,” Percy says huffily.

“There were three of them, Percy, and they were bigger than you,” Cal says. “At least with me and Nim there it was a fair fight.”

“Besides, we won,” Nimue says placidly. “So Dad won’t be too upset.”

“Not with you, maybe,” Cal says. “He told me that if I got caught fighting again this term he was going to cancel my allowance.”

“Do you get in trouble for fighting a lot?” Tina says.

”My name is _Excalibur_ Graves,” Cal says. “You don’t think I had to learn how to win fights quickly? Besides, Dad taught us. He says everyone ought to learn how to defend ourselves.”

“Even Percy?” Credence says.

“Especially Percy. You know everyone thinks Percy’s gonna be a pushover cos he’s so little and he cries all the time but he’s a real scrapper. You know he bites?”

“He… bites?”

“Yeah, he got in trouble for biting the Charms teacher.”

“Professor Stamp?” Tina says in horror.

“He’s mean,” Percy says. “He picks on me for no reason.”

“He picks on all of us,” Nimue says. “He was at school with Daddy and they didn’t get along.”

“He kept grabbing my arm and pulling me,” Percy says, glaring furiously from behind his glasses. “And I told him not to do that and he did it again so I bit him.”

“I’m just surprised that no one’s ever tried to bite him before,” says Isolde. “But Mercy,  can you imagine how nasty that would be?” She sticks her tongue out in disgust.

“Stamp said he wouldn’t have Percy in his class unless he was muzzled, or had his mouth spelled shut,” Cal says, “but Dad came and shouted at him until he gave in.”

Percival is beginning to wake up. “What’s this?” he mumbles. “Who did I shout at?”

“Nobody,” Credence says. “Go back to sleep.”

“Professor Stamp,” Cal says. “We’re telling Tina about the time Percy bit him.”

Percival opens his eyes. “That man has no business teaching children,” he mutters. His eyes meet Credence’s and he smiles. “So you survived the afternoon?”

Credence nods, “No trouble at all,” he says. “It was a piece of cake.”

“You won’t be saying that in a few days,” Percival says. He notices the bakery box and his eyes light up. “Speaking of cake - “

Tina excuses herself soon after that, saying she wants to get home. She declines to sample the cake but takes an eclair with minimal coaxing.  

Credence feels a little out of place over the next hour as the children talk to their father, who speaks very little except to call them to order a few times when arguments start getting out of hand.

Percival eats two slices of cake and three eclairs while they talk; it’s obvious where the twins inherited their sweet tooth from.

Credence picks at his cake and watches them. He wishes he’d grown up in a family like this, cared for and loved. A tightness grows within his chest. _Could_ he have a family like this? Could he be part of this one? It feels dangerous to hope - and god, he knows how dangerous, but he can't help it.

“Why don’t you go get some ice cream?” Percival says suddenly. “I want to speak to Credence alone.”

“About us?” Cal says, his eyes going wide.

Percival gives him a quizzical look. “What did you do?”  

“Nothing. I didn’t do - it wasn’t _my_ fault okay?”

“It wasn’t mine either,” Nimue says. “I didn’t even know what it was about. I was just there.”

“I wasn’t there,” Percy says, quickly.

“Yes you were, you liar,” Cal says.

“You’re a liar,” Percy says.

“You’re both liars!” Izzy says. “And not even good ones. Can I have some money, Dad? For the ice cream?”

“Shush!” Percival holds a finger to his lips. “I can’t hear myself think.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just go down to the cafeteria, okay? Tell them to charge it to me.”

“Will they have ice cream?” Nimue says.

“Sure,” Percival. “Maybe. I don’t know. Get some soda, or candy if they don’t. Whatever you like.”

Nimue grins widely and Credence just knows she’s going to order the biggest ice cream they have on offer even if she’s just had cake.  

Isolde hangs back, curious. “Why - “

“Give me half an hour,” Percival says. “And don’t leave the hospital.”

Cal gives Credence a pleading look as they leave.

“I don’t know anything about it really,” Credence says after the door shuts behind them. “But it sounds like some other children were bullying Percy and the twins were just defending their brother.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Percival says. “Though I suppose I’ll have to deal with that later. Sit down before they come back.”

Credence’s heart beats harder and his ears begin to get warm. Are they going to talk about what had happened last night?

Percival pats the bed beside him and once Credence is sat facing him, he reaches for his hand.

“Tina told me what happened,” he says.

Oh no.

No.

He knows. He knows what Credence is. What he’s done.

No, no, _no._

It’s all Credence can do to keep himself still when all he wants to do is run. Run away from here. Away from _him._ Anything to not have to look into Percival’s eyes and see the horror and disgust he must surely feel now he knows what a monster Credence is.

His Obscurus stirs within him, it wants to run, to hide. It wants to rage at the unfairness of it all and Credence wants to let it. But if he does he’ll hurt Percival, and god only knows who else. He might hurt the children and Credence won’t take that risk. He won’t have _that_ on his soul.

Percival’s thumb is rubbing circles over Credence’s wrist. Credence stares at it  - it grounds him somehow. How can Percival bear to touch him, now that he knows what Credence has done.

“Credence?” Percival’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. “Hey! Stay with me.”

“I - “ Credence chokes. “I’m sorry - “

The Obscurus ripples beneath his skin straining to get out. It wants to get out. And Credence can’t stop it.

“Percival,” he whimpers, saying the name like a prayer, like a plea for help. He grips Percival’s hand tighter, trying desperately to anchor himself and Percival winces, mutters a curse under his breath and pulls Credence into his arms.

And just like that, like a fire being doused, the Obscurus retreats.

Credence gasps against Percival’s chest, sucking in great mouthfuls of air. It’s like he’d been holding his breath - perhaps he _had_ been without realising.

“Shhh,” Percival holds Credence tightly, and strokes the back of his neck and his hair. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s _okay.”_

Credence clings to him, he fists his hands in Percival’s shirt, tucks his head into his shoulder and sobs.

He can’t stop the tears - he doesn’t know why he’s crying - relief, fear, sadness. Perhaps all of them.

“I knew it was you,” Percival says, gently. “No, I didn’t _know,_ but I suspected.”

Credence lifts his head to look at him. “You knew?” he says. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Percival sighs. “It was obvious that _you_ didn’t know. And I wasn’t entirely sure. Everyone I spoke to, all the experts, said it was impossible for an Obscurial to reach puberty let alone adulthood. And the attacks stopped after we started meeting, so I thought maybe I was wrong. And Credence, even if it was you I didn’t know what I was going do about it.”

He takes Credence’s face between his hands and wipes his tears away.

“I wasn’t about to arrest you,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t have you locked away - or -or worse for something that wasn’t your fault. I _couldn’t._ ”

He takes Credence back into his arms, and leans back against the pillows. Credence rests his head on Percival’s chest, comforted by the steady beat of his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Percival says. “I should have done something. I should have got you away from that woman, but I -I’m so sorry Credence.”

“Ma - “ Credence begins, but he won’t think about her. He can’t think about her. Net yet. He isn’t strong enough to think of her, or his sisters - he can’t bear it. Not yet.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know he wasn’t you,” he says instead, and Percival stiffens. His heartbeats grow faster and Credence tightens his arms around his chest.

“I knew something wasn’t right,” he whispers. “He wasn’t - he didn’t feel right. I thought you were worried about the Obscurial, I thought you were upset that I hadn’t found them yet. I didn’t _know - “_

“Don’t,” Percival says, in a tight, unhappy voice. “Please don’t apologise to me.”

“I should have _known,”_ Credence says. “I love you. I _do._ But still I didn’t - I wanted to believe the things he said - that it was you saying them. I wanted - I _wanted._ ”

“What did he do to you?” Percival takes Credence by the shoulders and pulls him away from himself. “Did he - did he touch you?”

Percival looks broken, almost as wretched as he did when Credence found him. “Only - only like this,” Credence says and cups Percival’s face in his hands.

Percival breathes out, brings his right hand up to cover Credence’s. “It wasn’t your fault. I wouldn’t blame you if - “

“And like this,” Credence flings his arms around Percival’s neck. “And just for a moment. He held me but not like this, it wasn’t anything like _this_.”

Percival puts his arms around Credence’s back, a bit hesitantly at first, and then stronger.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s over.”

“It does matter,” Credence pulls back so he can look Percival in the eye. “Last night, when you kissed me was the first time I’d ever  -  and I’m glad it was with you. It was supposed to be with _you_ , not him, and if he had then maybe you wouldn’t have blamed me, but it would have mattered.”

“I know,” Percival says and Credence wishes he would stop looking so sad. “I _know._ Of course, it matters. I only meant - oh _fuck_.”

He grips the back of Credence’s neck, pulls him close and kisses him.

Credence kisses back. He doesn’t know what he’s doing or how to do it. Percival’s lips are dry and chapped, and his beard tickles but it’s still _him,_ and that makes it perfect. It feels right in all the ways his encounters with the imposter had felt wrong.

“Credence,” Percival breathes his name against his lips, and kisses him again. Credence’s head is full of him. Full of the taste and smell and feel of him, he whimpers into Percival’s mouth and pulls away, overwhelmed.

“Too much?” Percival smiles wryly and Credence nods. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” Percival takes Credence’s hands in both of his. “All of this. It’s all too much. And I don’t know - I can’t think straight right now.”

“I love you,” Credence says. It’s all that he can think to say.

Percival closes his eyes. “Don’t say that again until I’m … until I get out of here,” he says. “This place, it doesn’t feel real.”

“It is,” Credence says. “And I am too.”

“I know,” Percival opens his eyes and looks at him in that dark, unfathomable way of his. “Just don’t. Please.”

Credence feels like crying.

Percival cups his cheek and presses a soft, quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Stay with me, okay?” he whispers.

Credence nods and swallows around the lump in his throat. It isn’t quite a confession of love, but Percival wants him to stay, he trusts him with his children and that’s enough. For now, at least.

“Right,” Percival pats his cheek and gives him a weak smile. “I want you to tell me what happened. Just as much as you can remember. I want - “ he catches sight of something behind Credence's shoulder and stops, blinking in confusion.

“Credence, am I hallucinating or is that a cactus?”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Percy junior had gone to Hogwarts during the HP era he would have definitely bitten Snape. Just saying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: reference of torture in the past.

That first night in the apartment, Credence finds himself in Percival’s bed again. This time, however, he’s alone.

He’s wearing a pair of borrowed silk pajamas - of course Percival wears silk pajamas. The shirt’s too big on him and the bottoms are slightly short. They’re not an old pair but from his _current_ wardrobe. He’s only wearing them to bed after all, why should it matter if they don’t quite fit?

Credence glances guiltily at the picture frame lying face-down by the bedside. This had been _their_ bed, _their_ first home after they were married.

They’d moved to “the Big House” after the twins had been born and they needed more space, the children had told him, but they’d kept this place. It had been convenient for Percival for the late nights when he couldn’t make it home.

Credence pulls open the drawer built into the table and pushes the picture in. He’ll never get any sleep while it’s right there next to him. Before he closes the drawer he catches sight of a small box.

Credence knows it’s a bad idea to open it, but he does anyway.

There are two rings inside it; one with a diamond embedded in the centre, the other a plain band of gold. Credence shuts the box closed quickly, catching the skin between his thumb and index finger in the hinge. He winces and sucks the sore part of his hand into his mouth.

He supposes it serves him right.

Credence puts the box back where he found it and murmurs a quiet apology to its former owner as he blows out the candle.

 

* * *

 

Credence wakes to a loud pounding on the door.

For a moment he has no idea where he is and almost falls out of the bed in a panic. He manages to catch himself and hurries to the door.

“What the matter?” he says. “What’s wrong?”

Cal stares at him. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “I need to use the bathroom and Izzy’s hogging ours. Let me use the one in here.”

Credence steps aside to allow the boy in and he rushes through the room, slamming the door to the small attached bathroom.

Cal was in too much of a hurry to have noticed anything amiss in the room, but Credence quickly retrieves the picture of his parents from the drawer he’d stowed it in the night before.

He stares at it and the two dancing figures in it for a long, heartsick moment, before he grabs one of Percival’s dressing gowns and leaves to see what the other three children are shrieking about.

 

* * *

 

At breakfast, Isolde asks Credence why he doesn’t have a wand.

“Because I don’t have one,” Credence says.

“That’s not an answer,” she says scowling at him.

“I don’t _have_ an answer to give you.”

“Izzy,” Cal says warningly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Isolde snaps at him. “Don’t act like you don’t want to know.”

“I do, but - “ Cal glances at Credence. “It’s not polite to ask questions like that.”

“Like what?” Percy said. “Did your wand get broken, Credence? Dad will buy you a new one if you can’t aff-”

“ _Percy!”_ Cal hisses.

Credence flushes red at Cal’s efforts. “It’s okay, Cal,” he says quietly. “I _know_ that I’m poor. That’s not what it is - I’ve never had a wand.”

“Why?” Nimue says. “Is it because you’re poor?”

“Oh my _god!”_ Cal exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, and despite everything Credence can’t help smiling at the boy’s theatrics.

“It’s not because he’s poor,” Izzy says, paying no attention to her brother. “There’s a fund for poor students, so that they can buy robes and wands and things. And even if he’s No-Maj-born they would have taken him away from his family when he got his letter.”

Percy gasps loudly. “Were you _expelled?”_ he says in tones that other people might use to ask “Are you a murderer?”

“I wasn’t expelled, I didn’t go,” Credence says with patience he doesn’t feel.

“But why -”

“Eat your pancakes,” Credence says.

Isolde glares at him. “You’re so weird,” she says. “Where did Dad find you even?”

“Pike Street,” Credence says. “Pass the syrup, please.”

Isolde plonks the bottle down in front of him, and seemingly having run out of questions begins to cut into her pancakes, stabbing into them with knife and fork with more vigour than strictly necessary.

“I don’t see what those pancakes did to you,” Credence remarks.

She crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a calculating look. “I’m going to find out about you, you know,” she says.

“You do that, Izzy,” Credence tells her.

“I didn’t say you could call me Izzy.”

Credence shrugs. “Whatever you say, _Isolde,”_ he says deliberately and hands her a napkin. “You’ve got something on your chin.” 

 

* * *

 

The day passes much in the same way as the one before. They arrive at the hospital at four with cake, but Percival shakes his head and says he isn’t hungry.

He looks exhausted and mutters something about how he can’t sleep in the hospital bed.

“When can you come home?” Percy asks, curling up next to him.

“Soon,” Percival puts an arm around him. “I’ll be there as soon as they’ll let me.”

The pile of papers at his bedside seems to have grown since the previous day.

“You aren’t _working,_ are you?” Credence says.

“No,” Percival said. “I tried to, but -” he yawns. “I’ll look at them tomorrow.”

“Why do _you_ have to look at them?” Isolde says. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick, I’m _recovering_ ,” Percival says. “And I’m still Director for Magical Security.”

“They didn’t notice when you were replaced,” she retorts. “So much for Magical Security.”

Percival looks even more tired at that. “I know,” he murmurs. “We’ll have to review and overhaul our entire security. It’s my own fault. I should have - “

“It wasn’t your fault!” Credence blurts out. “It wasn’t.”

Percival sighs and he sounds so weary. “No one knew, Credence,” he says. “What does that say about me? Or the department I was supposed to be in charge of.”

“I would have known,” Percy says.

“I know you would have,” Percival smiles down at his youngest son and ruffles his hair. “Hey Percy, when did you get so big?”

“I’m not big!”

“Bigger,” Percival teases him. “You were so little when you were born.”

He holds his hands about a few inches apart to demonstrate.

“I was not!”

Percival kisses the boy’s forehead. “I’m glad you weren’t there,” he says. “And I’m glad no one knew. If they did - “ his eyes seek out Credence’s. “If _you_ had known, he would have killed you.”

Credence looks away miserably. “He could have tried,” he says.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Percival says firmly. “Least of all yours.”

“What’s Credence got to do with any of this?” Isolde says. “And why doesn’t he have a wand or -”

“Izzy,” Percival extends a hand towards her. “Come here.”

When she takes it, he draws her toward him and kisses the back of her hand. “I love you, darling girl,” he says. “You know that right?”

Izzy nods, her eyes wide and solemn. “I’ll tell you myself when the time’s right,” Percival says. “And it’s not because I don’t trust you, or because I think you’re too young, but you need to listen to me when I tell you to _drop_ it.”

“Dad -”

“Isolde. I’m tired,” he pleads. “I can’t do this today. There’s all sorts of - Credence shouldn’t exist. That’s all I can tell you. He shouldn't but he does, and he saved my life even though I _failed_ him in the worst way possible. Is that enough?”

She nods and hugs him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You didn’t fail me,” Credence says. He’s going to cry. He’s going to cry and shatter any last illusions of authority he has over these children.

Percival looks at him over his daughter’s head. “I can’t do this with you either, Credence,” he says. “Not today.”

“Okay,” Credence rubs his eyes. “Okay, well if you’re tired then you should sleep.”

“Can’t,” Percival says, though his eyelids droop.

Credence thinks of how Percival had refused to let go of his wrist two nights ago - was it really only two nights ago? How he’d admitted he didn’t want to be left alone. _I was alone in the dark for so long._

“Okay then,” Credence says. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks back to the reception desk. “I need to speak to Director Graves’ healer,” he says.

The nurse glances up at him. “You’re family?”

Is he?

“Yes,” Credence says, firmly. “Can you call him for me. Please.”

The nurse seems sceptical but by some happenstance the healer’s assistant from the first night comes by the desk and nods at Credence in recognition when he sees him.

“Credence, right?” the assistant says, offering his hand. “I’m Koizumi. Keiichi Koizumi, but everyone calls me K.”

Credence shakes his hand awkwardly, unused to the friendly treatment,

“How’s the Director doing today?”

“I wanted to talk to someone about him,” Credence says. “He needs something to help him sleep.”

Koizumi frowns. “Let me see his chart,” he says to the reception nurse. He flips through it. “It says he refused a sleeping potion last night,” he says.

“He refused one when he came in as well,” Credence says. “He’s - He doesn’t like it when he’s not in control.”

“I see,” Koizumi says. He scribbles a note on the chart with a quill. “I’ll get you some Dreamless Sleep then. If you can get him to take it -”

“Oh, I’ll get him to take it,” Credence says. “What else does it say on there?”

 

* * *

 

“I’m not taking that,” Percival says, when he sees the potion bottle Credence brings back with him,

“You don’t know what it is.”

“It’s a sleeping potion and I don’t want it. I’ve had enough of them to last me a lifetime.”

“You won’t dream,” Credence says. “They said - “

“I know what Dreamless Sleep is,” Percival says peevishly, and he clenches his jaw in the way that Percy does when he’s refusing to eat his vegetables.

“They _said_ you’ll recover quicker if you got more rest.” Credence holds out the bottle to him. “We’ll stay with you until you’re asleep.”

“Leave it there,” Percival jerks his head towards the table. “I’ll take it later.”

“Will you?” Credence holds his gaze, refusing to look away. He wouldn’t have dared to do or say any of this before, and he can’t quite believe his own boldness. Perhaps the key to confidence is to just act like you have it until you do.

Percival sighs loudly and snatches the bottle out of Credence’s hand. He swallows the contents down and tosses it aside.

“ _Happy?”_ he snaps and gestures to the children who’ve been watching their exchange with rapt attention. “Come here. You have about two minutes before this thing knocks me out.”

After Percival’s hugged each child, he yawns widely and pulls Credence into his arms too.

“You’re a miracle,” he whispers into his ear. “Don’t forget that.” His arms go slack about Credence and his head falls against his shoulder. He’s asleep, the potion doing its job.  

Credence holds onto Percival a moment longer, trying to force a neutral expression. He doesn’t think he succeeds as when he lets go Izzy opens her mouth to say something but closes it tight as soon as she sees his face. Credence settles Percival into a more comfortable position and pulls the covers over him.

“Let’s go,” he says and for once they do as he says without arguing.

 

* * *

 

Credence wakes up to a slap in the face. He first thinks he’s back in the church and it’s Mary Lou come to scream at him, but there’s something large and heavy constricting his chest.

Toby looks down at Credence with baleful yellow eyes and bats his face with his paw.

“What do _you_ want?” Credence chokes. “Get off me!”

Toby jumps off Credence and the bed in one fluid motion, pads to the door and stares at Credence hard.

“What is it?” Credence says and then feels very stupid as Toby hisses at him.

“Okay, you can’t talk. Got it,” Credence says. He follows Toby downstairs where Credence is greeted by the odd sight of Percy stood in front of a bookcase, a pile of books at his feet. The boy methodically removes a book, unseeingly flips through its pages and drops it neatly onto the pile. Then he does it all over again.

“Percy?” Credence says.  

The boy pays him no mind, and continues with his task. Credence steps around Percy to face him and his eyes are open but blank and unfocused.

Well, Percival _had_ warned him that his youngest was prone to sleepwalking. It’s a mercy there wasn’t a fire lit. Credence isn’t sure if you’re supposed to wake a sleepwalker or not, but decides against it.

When Percy reaches for another book Credence takes the boy’s hand and gently turns him around. Percy lets Credence walk him back towards the staircase but stops at the foot of the stairs.

Credence looks down at him doubtfully. Nothing for it, then.

The boy’s surprising light as Credence lifts him into his arms. He mumbles in his sleep and puts his head on Credence’s shoulder.

Credence thinks of Modesty as he carries Percy up to his room. How she’d stood up to Mary-Lou that last time. How she’d been willing to take on punishment herself to protect him - her adult brother. She’d been far, far braver than Credence. She was so much better.

He hopes beyond everything that she had made it out of that night alive. Part of him never wants to know for sure. Better to have hope that she’s alive, rather than know that she’s dead and that he’d killed her.

Despair rises within him and he holds onto the child in his arms a little tighter. He can’t lose control now, not when he has this one to protect. Percival’s entrusted his children, his most precious things to Credence and Credence would rather die than break that trust.

He puts Percy back to bed in the room he shares with his brother.

Cal sits up and blinks at Credence in confusion, but when he sees who it is, he simply rolls over and goes straight back to sleep.

These children are so trusting, they’re so different from how Credence had been growing up. He can’t remember ever being able to trust an adult so readily. Well, perhaps not Izzy, but three out of four isn’t bad.

He brushes the hair off Percy’s forehead. He thinks even now he might love this child a little. He might love all of them - and not just because of who their father is, though sure that’s part of it.

He can see Percival in all of them. In their faces and hair, in little gestures and turns of phrase.

If he loves their father, and Credence does, he’ll have to learn to love these children as well. Somehow that doesn’t seem so hard. He _wants_ this, wants _them,_ so badly he could weep. He doesn’t just want any family, he wants _this_ one.

Loving these children isn’t going to be a problem for Credence.

The problem is will they love him back?

 

* * *

 

The healer intercepts Credence on their way to see Percival the next day and asks to speak to him.

“How is he?” Credence says, quietly, mindful that the children might be eavesdropping. “Is he - ?”

“He’s much better now that he’s got a decent night’s sleep,” the healer - Davies - says. “I’ll be honest with you Mr - Graves is it?”

“Just Credence.”

“Um - right. Credence. I’ll be honest with you, there’s not much more that we can do for him. He’s still suffering the after-effects of prolonged _Cruciatus_ of course, but those should pass with time. Have you noticed the tremors?”

Credence nods, unsure of how to ask what the man means by _Cruciatus._ He can guess, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to face the reality that Percival had been hurt trying to keep Grindelwald from Credence.

“Luckily he’s had no loss of faculty and his memories seem intact - your old man’s a strong willed one - if you do notice any short term lapses in memory, let us know. The shakes will come and go - what he needs most is rest. It’s the mind, where they get you Mr - er -Credence. Anyone else, I’d have said don’t even think of going back to work any sooner than three months, but you know the Director, he couldn’t even wait three days.”

Credence’s ears are burning by the time the healer’s finished with his speech about ‘his old man.’ Should he correct him? Credence should, but correct him to what? They aren’t really each other’s anything yet. Still if it means that the healers will talk openly about Percival’s care to Credence they can assume what they like.

“The President’s been asking how quickly he can return to work and I know these are difficult times but - try and persuade him to stay home until the new year at least.”

“Okay,” Credence says. “And I guess he shouldn’t be looking at all those reports right now either.”

“You might have better luck convincing a dragon to leave its eggs,” Davies says dryly. “Speaking of dragons and their eggs, you oughtta get him to add you to his next-of-kin lists.”

Credence does blush at that and the healer smirks at his discomfort.

“Not that you needed it now, but you know his brother’s never here and sometimes there are decisions to be made if the patient can’t. And if there’s ever any trouble about the kids - Don’t look so terrified. He’s fine - I’m just saying, it pays to think ahead.

“We’ll keep him here two more nights and he can go home,” Davies finishes. “Not back to work - back home. Capice?”  

Credence nods. He does _capice_ , but doesn’t think that Percival will.

 

* * *

 

He walks into something of a situation.

Nimue turns her face away when Percival tries to kiss her cheek.

“No,” she says. “Not while you still have that beard.”

She doesn’t see how hurt her father looks, but Credence does. Percival rubs a hand over his face, and lets out a forced laugh.

“So that’s how it's going to be, hmm?”

“Yes,” she says. “I hate it.”

The razor lies in the same spot that Percival had left it two days ago. He glances at it furtively and Credence can’t tell if the shakes are back, but Percival’s doing a good job of keeping his hands out of sight so they must be.

“Don’t be such a child, Nimue. It’s just a beard.”

Percival walks away from her, and heads to the window, fumbling with a cigarette packet as he goes.

“You don’t look like _you.”_ Nimue says in a small voice that’s unlike her and maybe she does know that she’s hurt him.

Percival grunts in reply. He’s struggling with the cigarette packet, his hands are shaking and he can’t work it open.

“Daddy?” Nimue says tremulously.

“I’m fine,” Percival says curtly.

“Do you need help -” Cal reaches for the packet but Percival jerks it away.

“I _said_ I’m fine!” The packet rips in two and the cigarettes tumble to the floor. “Goddamnit. Just _leave_ them, Cal!” he snarls at the boy when he bends down to pick them up.

Cal freezes and looks up at Percival as if he’d struck him. All of them do. Percival’s right hand spasms and he grips the windowsill.

“Sorry,” he says in a choked voice. “I’m sorry. I can’t -”

“Leave your Dad alone for a while,” Credence says, softly. “Go on, all of you.”

Nimue bolts out of the room, Cal gives his father an accusatory look before chasing after her. Percy and Isolde hesitate. Percival doesn’t look at them, but nods his head. “It’ll pass,” he says. “Tell the twins it's not their fault.”

Credence waits until the door closes and takes a fresh cigarette packet from the drawer  He pulls one out and walks over to Percival.

“Here,” he says and places it between his lips.

Percival watches Credence as he lights it for him, and breathes in deeply.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” he asks.

“You did it the first night,” Credence says. “And I’ve been practising.”

“We might make a wizard out of you yet,” Percival says, smiling faintly. His fingers tremble around the cigarette and Credence looks at them pointedly.

“That’s because of the curses?” Credence says.

Percival shrugs. He stares out of the window as he puffs away steadily.

“You could have just told them.”

Percival laughs the same forced, unhappy laugh when Nimue had refused to hug him. “I didn’t want them to know,” he says. “I didn’t want you to either.”

Credence’s mouth feels very dry. “What’s the _Cruciatus_ curse, Percival?” he says.

“It wasn’t _your_ fault,” Percival says, dully. “I don’t want you to - “

“Please,” Credence reaches for Percival’s right hand. It shakes violently between his. “I know he hurt you to get to the Obscurial - to me. What did he do to you?”

Percival sighs. “I was tortured, Credence. Is that what you want me to say?”

It is, and it isn’t. He wants Percival to admit to it, but wishes he hadn’t. Now that he’s said it, it makes it all real.

Percival had been attacked, and kidnapped and tortured because Grindelwald had been trying to find Credence.

Credence doesn’t know what to do. Or what to say. What do you say to someone who would rather endure torture to keep you safe? Is he supposed to thank him? Apologise?

“Don’t look at me like _that_ ,” Percival snarls, trying to drag his hand out of Credence’s. “You don’t _owe_ me anything.”

Credence holds on. “Look at you like _what?”_

 _“_ Like the sun shines out of my fucking ass.”

“I’m not,” Credence says, but he doesn’t know how else to look at Percival, so he just grips the front of his shirt with both hands and buries his face in his neck.

“I know you don’t want me to say it,” he says. “Now you don’t want me to look at you?”

Percival slackens against him, brings one trembling hand up to stroke through Credence’s hair.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs.

“So’s your face,” Credence says into his shoulder.

Percival laughs weakly. “You’ve been spending too much time with my children,” he says.

“I’ve been spending all my time with your children,” Credence says. He hooks his arms under Percival’s and hugs him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Percival says. He shifts so that he can hold Credence properly. The trembling has stopped and Credence smiles to himself.

“Don’t be,” Credence says. “I like them.”

“That’s good,” Percival mutters. “I want you to like them. They’re good kids, better than I could have hoped for. I’m an asshole.” He pulls away from Credence

“Nimue. I’d better talk to herself before she works herself into hysterics.”

Credence can’t imagine Nimue in hysterics and the incredulity must show on his face because Percival smiles ruefully. “She doesn’t get upset easily, but when she does she gets _really_ upset.Or she gets really mad.”

“Not yet,” Credence picks up the razor from the table and points with it. “Bathroom. Now.”

 

* * *

 

“Aren’t there spells to do this?” Credence asks.  He’s done most of Percival’s face. All that’s left is his neck. He tilts Percival’s chin up.

Percival hums in the affirmative. “You don’t get as close a shave,” he says.

“Don’t move,” Credence warns as he scrapes the blade over Percival’s neck. Percival’s watching him out of the corner of his eyes and Credence’s ears start to get hot.

There’s something about this that feels so intimate, and not just because he could cut Percival’s throat with one wrong move.

“Almost done,” he says, trying to sound cheerful, casual. “You could have just asked one of the nurses to do this.”

“No,” Percival says, his voice low. “I couldn’t.”

He grabs Credence’s hand, forcing him to hold it and the blade still against his own throat. “I trust you,” he says.

Credence looks down into his eyes. He’s slightly taller than Percival - why has he never realised this before? Percival’s eyes are dark and so deep Credence thinks he could drown in them.

He closes his eyes and leans forward in a rush to kiss Percival’s lips. Percival kisses him back and he tastes like soap and cigarettes. Credence whimpers into his mouth, very aware of the blade between them, still pressed to Percival’s throat.

“I’ll hurt you,” he says.

“No, you won’t,” Percival says. But he lets Credence go and steps back. Credence drops the razor into the sink with a clatter.

Percival hooks an arm around Credence’s neck and drags his head down to kiss him again. It’s different from the other times they’ve kissed, his skin soft and smooth from the shave and his lips are cold, though they warm up soon enough.

Percival sighs and leaves Credence, to towel the rest of the soap off his face.

He does look so much more like himself now - he’s so handsome that Credence has to stifle a gasp of admiration.

“What?” Percival raises his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” Credence says. “Your face really is ridiculous.”

Percival scoffs and pushes Credence towards the door.

“ _You’re_ ridiculous. Go find my daughter.”

 

* * *

  

Credence is afraid he’ll find her in floods of tears, but Nimue has opted to be angry instead.

She holds her head high as she goes back into Percival’s room and pointedly refuses to look at her father.

“I’m sorry, Nimmy,” Percival sits down beside her.

“You were mean,” she says.

“I don’t mean to be,” Percival says. “I just - you can’t imagine how - well, maybe you can imagine. You know how frustrating it is when you’re trying out a new spell and it just won’t work? That’s how I feel all the time.”

Nimmy turns to look at him, reaches up to touch his cheek. Percival covers her hand with his own, and kisses her wrist.

“I’m getting better,” he says, softly. “But it's hard.”

The girl huffs. She looks like she wants to stay angry for a moment, but then gives up and scrambles into Percival’s lap to hug him.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she says. “I thought you just wanted to look like that.”

Percival laughs and rubs his now smooth cheek against his daughter’s. “Would I really want to look like a _vagrant_ , Nim? You know me better than that.”

She giggles and pokes at the two moles on his face. “You look like my Dad now,” she says.

Percival smiles wryly. “You pick the oddest things to fixate on. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

She nods seriously. “I _hated_ it.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Cal says. “I kind of liked it.”

“You’re a moron,” Nimmy retorts.

“Hey!”

Percival snorts. “Well I don’t know what to do about that. Maybe I could grow it back but only on this half of my face.”

“Ugh!” Nimue says. “That’s even worse!”

“Hmm,” Percival says. “Maybe that’s something to keep in mind. It could always be worse. Am I forgiven.”

Nimmy nods and and kisses Percival’s cheek.

Cal’s a lot more forgiving, readily accepting his father’s apology.

“Why didn’t you tell us about your hands,” he asks.

“It’s not an easy thing to tell,” Percival says. “I didn’t want you thinking about it.”

Cal frowns. “But we can _see_ them.”

“He means _why_ they’re shaking,” Isolde says. “I read your chart, Dad. I know what happened to you.”

Percival bites his lip. “Isolde,” he says, helplessly. “Don’t do this now.”

“ _When_ then?”

Percival lifts Nimue off his lap and goes to Isolde.

“Not yet,” he says. “Once we’re back home, okay?”

Isolde hugs him so fiercely that Percival winces.

“I’m okay,” he says to her softly. His fingers tremble as he strokes her hair. “It’s over now. I’m fine.”

 

* * *

 

That night after they’ve all gone up to bed, Isolde comes back down to speak to Credence.

“I never did thank you,” she says. “For saving my Dad’s life.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I do,” she says. “You brought him back to us. So thank you. And thank you for staying here with us so we don’t have to leave him.”

Credence doesn’t know what to say. He just looks at her dumbly.

“You could say _you’re welcome,”_ she adds.

“You’re welcome,” Credence parrots.

Isolde nods at him. “That’s all I wanted to say. This doesn’t mean I _like_ you.”

“‘Course not,” Credence smiles wanly.

“You’re still weird.”

“I know.”

She hesitates. “Are you in love with my Dad? You always look at him like you are.”

Credence stares at her, his heart beating wildly.“You don’t miss much do you?” he says.

She smirks. “Not much,” she says. “Is he in love with you?”

“I -” he tugs on his collar, which suddenly feels far too tight. “I don’t know. Would you mind?”

She looks at him the way her father does, eyes dark and unreadable.

“I don’t know,” she says. “It depends.”

“Depends on?”

“I hardly know you. I don’t even know what your deal is. I’m still making my mind up.”

Credence nods. “That’s fair.”

“I _will_ find out what your deal is,” Isolde says. “Whether Dad tells me or not. I’m just waiting until he gets out of hospital because he asked me to.”

“You may not have to wait much longer. The healer said today that they’d only keep him two more nights.”

“Great,” she says. “Fine. I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight, Isolde.”

She turns to go up the stairs and then stops with her hand on the bannister. She groans. “I _suppose_ ,” she says grudging, “ that you can call me Izzy.”

Credence smiles faintly as she runs up to her room. It’s a start.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've barely had a couple of hours a week to write lately. Seems like everything always has to happen at once. What's the plural of crisis? Crises? 
> 
> Anyhow, this is more terrible than usual, but it's something right? 
> 
> (Will be travelling for a couple of weeks so no probably updates til mid-June at the earliest)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: References to Mary-Lou Barebone's abuse of Credence. And how he's afraid he might repeat/inherit the same behaviours.

Tina arrives at the hospital at three forty five hoping she’ll be able to speak to Graves before his daily family visit. They’re always late. She doesn’t envy Credence having to wrangle the four Graves children out the door to the hospital and back every day, with stops to the bakery or book store or whatever present they’ve decided their father would like today.

They aren’t bad kids, but they’re so noisy and chaotic. Though that’s true of all children and it’s not that Tina necessarily _dislikes_ children, she just prefers adult company. She’d been ready to run away to start a new life when Nimue had suggested that they stay with Tina in order to be close to Graves.

Credence seems to handling them fine. He’d always seemed a lot closer to the younger of his two sisters. She’s wondering what happened to the little girl when she hears the noise coming from Graves’ room from four doors down. They’ve picked today to be early.

She heads back out again - she’ll get nothing accomplished with the children or Credence there - when she spots the latter speaking to Koizumi, the trainee healer, through an open office door.

“In a way he’s right to be wary,” Koizumi’s saying. “It’s kinda easy to get hooked on these things and the fallout’s never pleasant, but most people prefer to take the risk than to keep having nightmares.”

“Is he having nightmares?” Credence says.

“He says no, but -” Koizumi sighs. “I guess you’ll find out when he’s home. Look, all this stuff is only really there in case you need it. Just make sure you don’t get the dosage mixed up; and it’s usually not a good idea to mix sleeping and calming potions so one or the other. It’s nothing you couldn’t brew yourself, to be honest.”

Credence takes the bag of potions that Koizumi hands him.

“It’ll help if you can get him to talk about it,” the healer adds. “Probably more than anything that’s in that bag.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk about it,” Credence says.

Koizumi squirms and Tina darts back as he glances towards the door. “I wouldn’t force it,” he says. “Some healers think you can never be fully healed if you can’t talk about it, but I don’t believe it’ll do any good if you push him to talk before he’s ready.”

Credence nods slowly, he looks troubled and Koizumi slaps his shoulder awkwardly. “It’s not as bad as all that,” he says. “You’ve got him back. He’s all in one piece. Not everyone’s that lucky, right?”

“Right,” Credence says. “Thank you.”

He leaves the office, and narrowly misses walking straight into Tina. His eyes narrow, making him look almost feline.

“Miss Tina?” he says. “Were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t spying,” she says, feeling a little like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I needed to see Mr Graves but I can’t really do that with the children there, and that door was open - I couldn’t help overhearing.”

The face Credence pulls indicates that he thinks she could have helped it quite easily.

“What did you want to see him about?” he says. “Is it work? Because he shouldn’t be working?”

Tina raises her eyebrows at him. “Are you looking after him as well as the children?”

Credence scowls at her. “Someone has to,” he says. “I know you MACUSA people want him back straight away. Well you can’t have him.”

Tina holds back a laugh at how serious he is. It isn’t exactly funny - well, maybe a little funny - but she doesn’t know how else to react.

“We can’t _have_ him?”

He blushes bright red as he turns away from her. “I only meant -  he’s not alright. Not yet. He’s supposed to rest.”

He’s beginning to shrink in on himself and Tina didn’t mean to do that to him. She didn’t intend to remind him of his place or squash his new found confidence.

“I was only teasing you,” she says, gently. “And I’m not here about work - I came to give him back his wand.”

She pulls a slender box from her pocket. “His wand and some other personal items.”

“You couldn’t do that in front of the kids?” Credence says.

Why shouldn’t she tell him? It does concern him after all.

“I wanted to tell him that I wrote to Newt,” she says, in a rush, before she can change her mind. “Newt Scamander. Do you remember him? He was there that night. In the subway.”

Credence gives her a weak smile. “I remember him,” he says. “He tried to help me, to save from _that_ man. Grindelwald. He was… nice.”

“Yeah,” Tina nods in agreement. “He is. And he could help you. He says he knows a way to remove the Obscurus.”

The colour drains from Credence’s face.

“Remove it?” he whispers.

“I know it’s scary,” Tina says. “And I know everyone says it can’t be done without harming the host, but Newt wouldn’t try it if he wasn’t sure. The problem is that he’s not exactly welcome in America, but I was hoping Graves could fix that. Or you could go to England.”

“I can’t go to England,” Credence says. He won’t look at her.

“Not right now maybe,” Tina says. “But when Mr Graves doesn’t need you to -”

“Did Percival say that?”

 _Percival?_ What exactly _is_ going on between them?

“Say what?”

“That he doesn’t _need_ me?”

“No, of course not,” Tina says quickly. “I told you I haven’t spoken to him about it yet.”

“Of course not,” Credence murmurs softly, like he’s reassuring himself. He smiles brightly at her and straightens up.  “I can’t go to England,” he says again. “Besides, I don’t think I want it removed.”

He turns to go but Tina stops him with a hand on his arm.  “I don’t know what’s between you and Graves,” she says. “But he would agree with me. This force that’s inside you is dangerous, Credence. You know what happened the last time.”

“I can control it now,” Credence says. He pulls his arm away from her drawing it close to his chest. “I can do magic now, Miss. You don’t know what it’s like. It’s everything I’ve wished for, everything I dreamed of  all my life.” He looks at her with pleading eyes. “I could be - I _am_ a wizard - I can’t give it all up now. I _won’t!”_

“Removing the Obscurus doesn’t mean removing your magic,” Tina says, but she doesn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. What if it does mean that? She doesn’t know, and perhaps Newt doesn’t either.

“You’re not like any of the others,” she tries a different tack. “You’ve lived with this thing for so long, you’ve endured so much, Credence. I know you could survive it.”

“I don’t want to survive it!” he says. “That’s all I was doing before - surviving. _Enduring!_ I won’t go back to that. I’d rather die!”

“You _will_ die!” Tina hisses, trying to keep her voice down. “And so will other people. Credence, I know it wasn’t your fault - I’m not saying you meant it, I’m not blaming you, but people have died. And if you lose control of it again then more people will die, and I _know_ you don’t want that.”

He begins to deflate as she speaks, hunches over unconsciously trying to make himself smaller. Like if he curls into himself he’ll be protected from her words.

“Credence,” she says gently. “It wasn’t your fault.” She reaches out to him but he shies away.

“I can control it,” Credence says. “I can. I _have._ And Percival. He helps. It helps when he’s there. If he’s there it stays in. He’s all I - as long as he’s with me - ”

“He can’t always be with you,” Tina says. “Credence, _listen_ to me. You may not feel it, but it’s killing you. And if it isn’t removed then it _will_ kill you.”

“ _Kill me?”_ Credence’s lips curl upward in a sneer. His eyes, no longer downcast, are as hard and as cold as steel. “Oh no, Miss. I think you’ll find it was _wizards_ that killed me.”

He walks away from her and heads into Graves’ room.

Tina follows him quickly. She’s managed to say the wrong thing, she’s always saying the wrong things. She should have spoken to Graves first.

Graves is looking at a letter with an Ilvermorny crest. “Four cauldrons?” he says to Cal.

“They weren’t all mine.”

“You two either need to find new partners and pay attention in class.”

“We _do!_ ” Nimue protests. “Maybe it's the cauldrons. Maybe we got a bad batch.”

“Yeah? And not because the instructions said to stir six times anti-clockwise, but you got sidetracked arguing about how many billywig stings could kill a person and so you stirred fourteen times clockwise instead?”

“That happened last year,” Cal says. “And we only melted them. Nothing exploded this term.”

“That’s something to be thankful for,” Graves mutters and scans further down the letter. “Izzy, you _have_ to stop swearing at your teachers.”

“It was only Stamp.”

“That doesn’t matter, you - you know what? I’ll deal with this later I’m not even supposed to get any post.”

Graves puts the letter aside as Credence goes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder. Graves smiles briefly, puts his own hand over Credence’s and leans his head against his arm. Credence’s grip tightens and Graves looks up at him.

“You okay?”

Credence jerks his head in a way that could mean yes or no.

Graves squeezes down on his hand. “Credence?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Really.”

“Liar,” Graves says to him. He glances over at Tina and understanding dawns on his face. He tugs at Credence’s arm to pull him down to sit beside him. Credence crowds into Graves’ space, getting as close as physically possible and pressing himself against Graves’ side. Graves pats Credence’s knee.

“Don’t mind Tina, Credence. She doesn’t know half as much as she thinks she does. Have you been upsetting him, Goldstein?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Tina says. “I was only - “ she looks around at the children. “All I said was that I’d written to Newt and - “

“Newt?” Graves raises his eyebrows. “You needn’t concern yourself with wildlife, Tina, we’ve far more important things to worry about.” He gestures towards the box under her arm. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Oh. Yes, sir.” Tina hurries forward to hand it to him. “Your personal effects were cleared.”

“Right,” Graves hands shake as he takes the box from her. “ _All_ evidence gathered?”

“Yes, sir,” Tina says. She feels like an annoying child being put very firmly in her place. “The Unspeakables were very thorough.”

“Good,” Graves says shortly. “Because you’re not getting anything back.”

He opens the box and takes out the sleek ebony wand, holding it gently, like he’s afraid he’ll break it. He runs it through his hands for several moments.

He holds it tightly and closes his eyes.

“Dad?” Isolde says.

“It’s okay,” he breathes. “I’m okay.”

Graves opens his eyes and grins. “Accio Percy!” he says and the boy shrieks with laughter as he’s propelled backwards into his father’s arms.

“Still works then,” Graves says. He hugs Percy to his chest and then tickles him. The boy squirms out of his grasp and jumps out of reach.

Graves’ eyes flicker over Credence who’s still huddled to his side. He nudges him.

“Here,” he says, and hands him the wand. “You try.”

Credence blinks at him in confusion.

“Go on,” Graves presses the wand into his hand. “Another wizard’s wand will never work as well as your own, but should still work. _Not_ on Percy,” he adds. “Use the coffee cup or something.”

Credence looks down at the wand uncertainly. Graves wraps his own hand around his and mimes the wand movement. “Like this,” he says. “ _Accio_ \- and then whatever you’re trying to summon. Try it.” 

The children watch with interest, and Credence glances nervously at his audience. How much do they know, Tina wonders. They seem unfazed by the affection between the two men. Perhaps they, like the hospital staff, assume that they’re _together_. Maybe they just think they’re close friends.

“ _Accio_ coffee cup!”

The cup shoots towards him at high speed. Credence ducks and it zooms over his head and smashes itself against the opposite wall.

“Woah!” says Cal. “I wish you _had_ tried with Percy now.”

Percy punches his elder brothers arm. Cal yelps and shoves him hard.  

“Can it, both of you,” Graves says. “Go easy on the flick next time,” he tells Credence. “Beckon, don’t pull. Maybe try something less breakable.”

Credence looks at the wand dubiously and hands it back to Graves. “Not small boys then.”

“I’m not a small boy!” Percy says.

“You aren’t a big one,” Cal says.

Nimue nods in agreement. “You still have your baby teeth.”

“So do you!”

“I do _not!_ See!” Nimue pulls back her top lip to display a gap where two of her back teeth should be. “The last ones fell out already.”

“ _Enough!”_ Graves says. “And do that again, Nimmy. Let me see your teeth.”

“I brushed them this morning!” she says.

“That’s good to know. Hmm, we’re going to have to get them looked at.”

“Ha!” Cal crows. “I _told_ you!”

“Don’t gloat, Cal. Your’s still need some work,” Graves says. “Alright Nimue, you can stop now.”

Nimue stretches her mouth open wider and sticks her tongue out at him.

“Brat,” Graves says fondly. He gives her right ear a twist that looks more affectionate than painful, and Nimue squeals and darts away.

Graves rummages through the rest of the items in the box. Cufflinks. Collar clips. And then he goes very still as he takes out a plain gold band. His wedding ring.

“Did he wear this?” Graves says with some difficulty. He swallows around the words.

Tina tries to remember if he had. She thinks back on the interrogation room, the council chamber, the times he’d come to see her down at the Wand Permit Office. The time he’d once taken one of those monogrammed handkerchiefs (also in the box) and wiped mustard off her lips.

“I - er - I don’t think so,” she says. “He had it in his waistcoat pocket. Like you do.”

Graves holds the ring between his index finger and thumb, stroking over the gold surface. “At least he got that one right,” he mutters. he says and slides it onto the ring finger on his left hand, turns it around. It’s loose on him now.

Credence looks at the ring and then at Graves like his heart is breaking for him. He touches Graves’ wrist lightly and Graves shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says. “Hold onto the rest of this, would you, Izzy?”

Isolde’s been watching Credence silently since he and Tina entered the room. She comes up to her father to take the box from him, but her eyes never leave Credence. Their eyes meet and there’s a certain understanding between them.

“Try the spell without the wand,” she says.  

Credence balks but Graves looks approving at her suggestion. “It’s worth a try,” he says. “Remember, beckon, don’t pull.”

The boy (and why does Tina think of him as a boy? He’s not that much younger than she is, but he always looks like a frightened child to her) looks terrified, but he mouths the words to spell and crooks his fingers and the second cup flies in a neat arch through the air and into his outstretched hand.

The three younger children applaud while Credence looks at the cup in his hand with stunned silence and then looks up and around at all of them and breaks out in a wide smile that lights up his face.

“I’ve seen him practicing,” Isolde tells her father smugly. “It works better when he doesn’t try too hard.”

“Interesting,” Graves taps a finger over his lips. “I wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Credence says.

“Your magic may be too volatile for a wand,” Graves says. “Or at least one that isn’t your own. Or it may just be _my_ wand that doesn’t suit you. We’ll have to experiment when I get home.”

“ _Are_ you coming home tomorrow?” Percy says. “For real?”

“For real,” Graves promises. “Barring any setbacks, they say. But setbacks, or not, I’ve had enough of this place. Another day is about all I can stand.”

“I guess I’ll leave you guys to it,” Tina is about to make a hasty retreat - they’ve all but forgotten about her, when Graves calls her back.

“Come by the apartment about this time tomorrow,” he says. “And bring your full report.”

Tina frowns. “You have my full report, don’t you?” She searches the papers on his desk and hands it to him.

“That is barely a summary,” Graves chides. “And it only covers the Scamander incident. Where’s the rest of it?”

“The rest of it, sir?”

“Yes the rest- “ he groans and runs his hands through his hair, rubs his temples. “Mercy Lewis, Tina, there was a dangerous fanatic walking around the Woolworth building for at least two weeks. With the highest clearance. We need to find out what he learned and how far we’ve been compromised.  I want to know who he spoke to and what about, where he went, what he looked at. Hell, if he farted, I want to know who smelt it.”

His children giggle and he waggles a finger at them. “Don’t let me catch any of you repeating that.” He tosses Tina her report file back. “Re-do it. Write down everything you remember, going back to the third week of November,” he says. “ _Everything._ Then go borrow one of the department pensives and go re-examine your memories for everything you’ve missed.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be working!” Tina retorts.

“He isn’t,” Credence says dryly.

“I’m not working,” Graves says. “I’m telling you to, Tina.” He picks up a fresh scroll of paper and his quill and starts to scribble. “And take this to the President. Everyone who had any contact with Grindelwald while he was posing as me is to do the same. I want a schedule set up so everyone has a chance to use the pensives, and an interview schedule for after the holidays. And while you’re writing to _Newt,_ get him to write down what he remembers too. What are you grinning at, Goldstein? Is this amusing to you?”

“No,” Tina says. “It’s just - it’s good to have you back, Mr Graves.”

 

* * *

 

When they get home - and isn’t it strange that this place should feel more like _home_ in a week than the church had in over twenty years? - the children try to teach him more spells. They seem to be determined to take Credence’s magical education into their own hands.

 _Alohomora_ is the charm for unlocking doors, _Wingardium Leviosa_ the one for levitation. Credence fares better with the first one, wanting a closed door to open comes more natural than trying to get a feather to float.

“So you never did any magic before this year?” Cal says. “Not even accidently?”

“Not really,” Credence says. “Not that I remember.”

“Maybe you were Obliviated,” Nimue says. “That’s what they do to No-Majs.”

“Maybe,” Credence says. The thought fills him with unease. “How would I know?”

“You wouldn’t,” Izzy says. “If you were, those memories are lost forever. That’s what we were taught anyway.”

Could it be possible that he _had_ presented magic before? That he might have realised he could do magic earlier, but had simply been made to forget by the Obliviators? But then again, raised as he was by Mary-Lou Barbone to believe witches were unnatural, evil creatures, he would have been horrified to discover that he was one of those monsters.

Wouldn’t he?

He knows he wouldn’t have been. Even as he’d listened to his mother and parroted her words, part of him had always thought that the idea of _magic_ sounded wonderful.

Not the idea of cursing people and tormenting people, though if he’s being honest with himself sometimes even that had its appeal.

“Will he have to go to Ilvermorny with us?” Percy’s saying.

“He can’t go to Ilvermorny, stupid. He’s an adult!” Cal says.

“You’re stupid!”

He looks like he’s about to try to hit his brother, but Credence holds him back. “Stop it! And that wasn’t nice, Cal.”  

Cal scowls at him. “Well he _is_ stupid.”

Percy lunges for him again and Credence wraps his arms around his chest from behind and hauls him back.

“I said, stop that!” he snaps, and when the boy stills he lets him go.

“Cal’s just mad at Percy ‘cos he kept him up all night talking in his sleep,” Izzy says.

“I don’t see why it’s so inappropriate for me to share with Nim,” Cal mutters. “She sleeps like a normal person.”

“Boys in one room, girls in the other,” Izzy says.

Nimue sniffs. “Why can’t you sleep with Percy? It’s not like you even want to sleep. You’re always reading, and I can’t sleep with a light on.”

Credence sighs when they turn to him to appeal. “Don’t you all sleep in dormitories at school?”

“Yes, but - “

“So you have to share with more than one person, right? And you have to deal with snoring, and sleep talking and other kids being annoying too and you presumably still stay friends. There’s no reason to be mean just because Percy’s your brother, Cal, and Percy even if he is mean, you can’t punch him.”

Percy glowers at Cal, who gets a sly, eager look on his face.

“He can’t help it,” he says. “He’s too stupid to do anything else. His brain’s too small. It’s ‘cause he was born too early.”

“You _shut up!”_ Percy screams at him, and Credence grabs him again before he can attack his brother. The boy struggles against him trying to get free.

“I told you to stop that!” Credence says, trying not to shout. He holds the smaller boy by the wrists, to stop his flailing arms. “Cal, just stop talking, okay? If you can’t say anything nice then be quiet, and Percy, _stop it._ Would you please just behave?”

Percy glares up at Credence and then, kicks him in the shin.

Everything goes very quiet. There’s a roaring in Credence’s ears. He lets the boy go and backs away. The spoilt, arrogant little _brat!_ Now what? What’s Credence supposed to do now? He can’t just let this stand. He’s been nothing but kind and understanding to this child. He wants so hard to love him and this is what he gets in return. If Credence had ever done anything so blatantly disrespectful, his mother would have -

“Give me your belt.”

He hears his own voice saying the words before he realises he’s spoken.

Nimue giggles loudly, nervously, and the roaring stops.

“What? My - my belt?”

Percy is still looking at him, but the glare, the defiance is gone. He takes a couple of steps away from Credence, and he looks afraid now, perhaps realising what he’s done. He looks like a scared little boy - he’s just a _little boy._

“I said _go to your room!”_ Credence says. “Now. And stay there until you’re told otherwise.”

Percy opens his mouth to protest, or to argue, or perhaps to apologise but Credence holds up a hand. “ _Now,_ Percy.”

Percy flees up the stairs.

“Why did you want his _belt?”_ Cal says.

“You’ve gone all white,” Nimue adds.

“That’s enough out of you two,” Credence says. “Leave your brother alone for a while. Don’t go to him or anything. I’ll - I’ll  - _later_ . I’ll speak to him later. Just. Stay out of _trouble.”_

Credence walks away from them and into Percival’s study. He closes the door behind him and leans against it.

What has he done? What was he about to do?

He clenches his fists, nails digging into the palm of his hands as he sinks to the floor.

He spent his whole life wishing he could escape his mother. And now that he’s finally _finally_ free, has he turned out just as bad as she was?

Credence crawls over to the armchair and pulls a cushion off it. Presses his face deep into it and screams.

 

* * *

 

Credence doesn’t know how long he stays there, curled up on the floor, clutching at the cushion.

The shadows are long and the light fading when he hears a light tap on the door and Cal sticks his head around the door.

“Are you coming for dinner?” he says.

Credence gets up quickly, rubbing his sleeves over his face. “I’m not hungry. Just go ahead without me.”

Nimue’s head pops out below her twin’s. “Does Percy have to eat in his room?”

“No,” Credence says. He bites the inside of his cheek. “No, you can tell him he can come down.”

“Shouldn’t you do that?” Cal says. “I mean, when Dad punishes us, he’s the one who talks to us afterwards. So did our mother. When she was alive.”  

Nimue steps into the room. “Are you upset because you think Percy doesn’t like you anymore? ‘Cause that’s just what he does when he gets mad.”

“Yeah,” Cal agrees following his sister. “I bet he’s awful sorry now. He always is after. He’ll even be extra sweet to you for the next day or two.”

“Okay,” Credence tries to smile, but it doesn’t feel right, so he stops. “Okay, I’ll go.”

The twins block his path.

“I’ll say I’m sorry if you like,” Cal says. “I mean, I’m _not._ But I’ll say it.”

Nimue smacks his arm.

“Don’t you start now,” Credence says. “Can’t you have a conversation today without attacking each other?”

“Sorry,” the two of them say in unison. And Cal adds: “I am sorry you got caught up in it. And I guess I shouldn’t have been mean to him, but he’s so annoying and I’m not allowed to hit nim because I’m older. Dad says I have to be understanding, but he’s so - we’re brothers though. We’ll make up tomorrow. We always do.”  

“Are you going to go away?” Nimue says. “Izzy said you were. She said you’d realised that we were all nuts and you were going to leave.”

“I’m not -” Credence shakes his head. “I’m not going away.”

“What about tomorrow when Dad comes home?” Cal says.

Credence doesn’t know. Had he been asked that question this morning then he would have said he was staying for sure, but now what right does he have? He’d promised to protect them and he’d almost - no, not almost. He wouldn’t have. He would never hurt a child the way Ma - Mary-Lou had hurt him.

_Give me your belt._

Then why had he said that? Even though he would never beat a child in that way why had that been his first instinct? Is this his mother’s final revenge? Making sure that he can never be free of her? Will he always carry this part of her within him.

His eyes fill with tears and he wipes them away with his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ll have to - with your father - I don’t know.”

The twins look at him with expressions of mingled concern and horror - that fear and unease that children experience when an adult is crying and they don’t know why or what to do. Cal nudges his sister and whispers something to her.

“Do you want a hug?” Nimue asks.

He does. God, he does, but he doesn’t deserve one.

“No,” he says. “But thank you for asking.”

“Dad won’t be mad you sent him to his room or anything,” Cal says, He rubs the back of his head, making his short hair stick up and it’s a gesture so like his father’s that it’s all Credence can do not to start sobbing right there.

How is he going to tell Percival? He may never want to see him again, never want him around his children again, and if he doesn’t then Credence doesn’t blame him.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do when that happens.

_I’m done with you._

The thing within him stirs, raises its head, and Credence pushes it back down.

Not _now._ Not this. Not after everything else that’s happened this day - with Tina, and Percy and - and -

\- and he can do magic now. He’s a wizard. He can control _it_ . He doesn’t need _it_ anymore. If Percival’s done with him, then he’ll have to live with that. He’ll survive. He’ll endure. It’s what he does.

“I’ll go talk to Percy,” he says.

 

* * *

 

“Did you see smoke?”

“Smoke?”

“Yeah, for a minute it was like the room went dark and there was smoke. Behind Credence. Like it was coming from him.”

“ _Really?_ Like he was _what_? Farting smoke? He’s weird but not that weird.”

“Don’t be a moron, Cal. That’s not what I meant. Maybe it was just the shadows.”

“Probably. Though maybe that’s his problem. He’s a fart monster.”

“You really are such a moron.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

 

* * *

 

Credence pauses at the door to Percy and Cal’s room and rests his forehead against it. What is he to say? How do you apologise for something you haven’t done. Something you never intended to do, but something you thought about doing? Even if it was just for a second, how do you forgive something unforgivable.

He knocks and pushes open the door. Percy is curled up in bed, looking small and miserable. For a second Credence thinks he might be asleep but Percy lifts his head and scrambles up.

Percy runs to him and hugs him around his waist.

“I’m sorry!” he says. “Are you mad? You’re mad. I’m sorry!”

Credence touches his hair with shaking fingers. How can Percy even want to touch him after he almost - but then, Percy doesn’t know, does he? None of them know what Credence truly is.

Credence bends over and hugs the boy tightly.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers. “Oh, Percy.”

Percy looks up at him and his eyes go very wide behind his glasses. “Did I hurt you real bad?”

“No,” Credence shakes his head. “You didn’t hurt me. Not really.”

“But you’re crying!”

Credence wipes his face quickly. “That’s not because of you,” he says.  

“Oh,” Percy says. “Is it because of Cal?”

Despite everything he has to laugh at how determined Percy is to blame his brother. “It’s not because of any of you,” he says.

“Are you going to go away because of me?” Percy says. “Because I made you sad.”

“You didn’t -” Credence sighs. “I’m not - “

“I didn’t mean to kick you,” Percy says.

“Then what did you mean to do?”

Percy shrugs and looks away sullenly. “I don’t know,” he says. “Sometimes I do things, and I don’t know why. I never mean to do them, but I just get mad.”

“Like when you bit that teacher?”

“Oh no,” Percy says. “I meant to do _that._ But I - I don’t know how to say it.”

“Try,” Credence says. He sits the boy down on his bed and sits beside him. He takes Percy’s hand in his, turns it over and runs his thumb over his palm. It’s so small compared to Credence’s. Small, and pink and unmarked.

“I don’t know,” Percy says again. “I wasn’t thinking ‘I should kick Credence now’. I just - it’s just so _unfair._ Cal was being mean and he kept saying I was stupid, and I’m _not_ stupid. I just don’t _know_ as many things as him and I _know_ I shouldn’t hit people, or Cal, even if he is mean, but there’s nothing mean I can ever say back to him, because I can never think of anything to say. And you were scolding me and it wasn’t fair, so I - “ Percy sniffs and closes his fist over Credence’s thumb. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go away because of me.”

“It won’t be because of you,” Credence says. “It won’t be _your_ fault.”

Percy’s eyes fill with tears. “Everyone goes away,” he says in a small voice. “Tina doesn’t like us either.”

“That’s not true!”

“She didn’t want to stay with us,” Percy says. “I like you. I want you to stay.”

“That’s for your Dad to decide,” Credence says. “He may not want me to stay any more, but it won’t be because of you.”

“But you _want_ to stay with us?”

Credence nods and fights back the tears. “I’ll have to talk to your father,” he says. “And if he still wants me to, I’ll stay.”

“He’ll want you,” Percy says. “Dad likes you too. I know he does.”

Percy kneels up on the bed so that he can hug Credence again. He puts his arms around Credence’s neck and Credence holds on tight.

Is this how it works in a normal family? Is this how it should be? Maybe Credence will never be completely free of Mary-Lou’s ghost. Maybe she’s left marks on him that can never be fully healed, but he doesn’t have to become her. He doesn’t have to make the choices she made. Maybe his first instincts will always be dictated by what she did to him, but he doesn’t have to _act_ on them.

Maybe he can still have this. Maybe he can stay.

He pats Percy on his back and sets him down.

“Go wash up for dinner, okay?” he says. “I’ll be right down. You think you and Cal can pretend to be friends for ten minutes?”

“I’ll pretend,” Percy says. “But I’m not talking to him.”

“I can live with that,” Credence says, and ruffles Percy’s hair.

He heads to his own bedroom - Percival’s bedroom, really - planning to use the other bathroom to wash his face, to take a minute to himself before he faces them again. He passes the girls’ bedroom, and the door is slightly ajar, candlelight spilling from it, and on impulse he knocks twice and pushes it open all the way.

Izzy’s kneeling on the floor surrounded by open books and newspapers. She’s industriously cutting out articles, that she’s arranged in some sort of order.

They’re magical newspapers, the photographs move, same as the pictures all around the apartment. Credence swallows as he takes in scenes of the aftermath of destruction, some of which he knows he himself had been responsible for.

“What’s all this?” he says.

Izzy looks up at him and smiles, sweet as pie. “Just some homework.”

“Well put it away,” he says. “Dinner’s ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... this chapter was a little angsty. I was a bit on the fence about whether I should keep the second half, but then Credence doesn't really have any positive examples of how to deal with conflict, and because kids will be kids and be horrible with each other, I thought he was bound to have a 'moment' - and it really was just a moment, but it was there and he has a lot of feelings and guilt about it. 
> 
> But well, it's already written, so here it is. 
> 
> (Please note that Percy's behaviour isn't because he was 'born too soon'. It's because he's eleven and doesn't have constructive ways to express himself. And Cal knows he's sensitive about being teased about it and enjoys winding him up about it.  
> )


	6. Chapter 6

When Tina had applied to be an auror she hadn’t imagined that it would ever involve skulking outside the President’s office, waiting for her to show up.

“You put this into the President’s hands, understand?” Graves had said to her, and when Tina had nodded and tried to take the sealed scroll from him, he’d held on.

“I need to hear you say it,” he’d said. “You don’t leave it on her desk or with her secretary. You don’t push it under the door. You’re going to deliver it into her hands. This is important.”

“Yes, sir,” Tina had promised. “I will. Into her hands.”

It would help if Picquery didn’t seem to hate Tina. She doesn’t know what she’s done to cause such dislike - well, that’s not true. It’s probably the culmination of too many mistakes, too many times that Tina has gone against direct orders. She’s too pushy, too obstinate, has opinions that come out way too strongly and always rub people the wrong way.

Though aren’t these qualities the President herself is known for? And while the wizarding world doesn’t have the same hateful prejudices as the No-Majs that doesn’t mean that they don’t have their own.

Picquery may have been the brightest witch in her generation, she may have been the only student in a hundred years to be chosen by all four houses, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t had to fight for her place every step of the way. She’s from wizarding stock, but not of any _particular_ family, and there’s always been a bias in favour of those from the rich, east-coast, european families. Those who have old money, and keep to the old traditions.

Picquery knows what it’s like to have everyone watching you to fail, waiting to pounce on your slightest mistake. She knows what it’s like to work twice, three times as hard as anyone else, for a fraction of the credit. So why can’t she see that Tina is only trying to do the same? Or perhaps she can see, but doesn’t care. After all, she was never afforded any breaks, so why should allow any for Tina.

But now, that Tina’s been proved _right,_ when for _once_ in her life she’s done something right, Picquery’s even colder to her than before. Like Tina’s triumph comes at the expense of her own, and maybe it has, but that isn’t _her_ doing. She’d tried to warn her. Is it Tina’s fault she wouldn’t listen?

“Goldstein,” Picquery’s clear voice interrupts her reverie. “What are you doing here?”

“Um - “ caught out, Tina fumbles in her pockets. “Mr Graves asked me to give you this.”

“And are you his carrier pigeon now?” Piquery smirks, and her secretary giggles. “Leave it with Miranda and I’ll make sure I’ll read it.”

“He said I was to give to you directly,” Tina says. “Into your hands. He made me promise.”

Picquery rolls her eyes. “Very well then,” she holds out her hand.

Tina hands over the letter, “He wanted me to watch you read it.”

“Paranoia getting the best of him?” Picquery scoffs, and then sighs. “I suppose I can’t blame him.”

She breaks open the magical seal and unfurls the scroll. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to be working yet,” she murmurs as she begins to read through the contents. Her brow furrows. “Have you read this, Goldstein?”

“No, Ma’am,” Tina says. “But he said we needed to find out everything that Grindelwald was able to - “

“Yes, yes, I meant about the - never mind. He’s still in the hospital, isn’t he?”

“I think so,” Tina says. She checks her pocket watch. “Unless they’ve already discharged him.”

“That’s happening today?” Picquery frowns. “Miranda, cancel all my appointments for the next two hours. I need to go talk to him about this.” She taps the scroll and sweeps off.

“I wonder what was in there to make her run off like that,” Miranda says, conversationally. “You know she acts cold but when she heard they found him, she -”

Tina tones out the secretary. She knows about all the rumours that suggested that the relationship between the President and her Director of Magical Security was, or had been, more than profession. Rumours she knows for a fact now are completely unfounded. Graves seems to care about Credence just as much as -

Credence.

If Graves is being let go now, then Credence and the children will be there to collect him, and if Picquery sees him...

Tina calls out an apology to Miranda and runs to the Disapparation point.

There’s no sign of the President when she gets there, nor when she Apparates in front of the hospital. She hopes that the children have reverted back to form and are running late - or that they’ve already left.

Tina wills the elevator to go faster as it moves far too slowly up to Graves’ floor, and spots Picquery speaking to one of the nurses as the doors open.

She seems preoccupied, perhaps Tina can sneak past her. She just has to keep her nerve for the twenty seconds it will take to walk across the waiting area and -

“Auror Goldstein!” Healer Davies sticks his head around the corner. “Are you here to see the Director?”

Tina’s heart drops as Picquery turns to look at her, and the blank faced stare she gives her is somehow scarier than if she’d started to yell.

“Goldstein,” she says.  

“Ah, good morning, Madam President,” Davies continues, cheerful and oblivious.  “Apologies, I didn’t know you were here.”

“No apology needed,” Picquery says smoothly. “Did you wish to talk to Ms Goldstein about the Director? I do hope you’re not going to change your mind about discharging him today. “

“Oh of course we’re letting him go,” the healer says. “All he needs now is rest and he’ll get much more of that at home. I’ve got the forms right here.” He turns to Tina with a smile. “You couldn’t give these to his young fella could you? Save me a trip down the hall.”

“His _what_?” Picquery says, her eyebrows shooting up.

Davies grins. “Yeah I was surprised myself,” he said. “I wouldn’t have guessed Director Graves had a boyfriend. If you ask me, he’s on the young side but -”

“Yes, thank you,” Picquery cuts him off. “Ms Goldstein will see to it that he gets your forms.”

The smile fades from the healer's face. “Right,” he says. “I’ll just-” and he hands the paperwork to Tina and disappears back into his office.

“Did you know this - of course, _you_ knew. Graves has a boyfriend?” Picquery demands.

“Um,” says Tina. “I don’t know if you would say _boyfriend_.”

 

* * *

 

Seeing Percival in a suit again brings on mixed feelings.

He looks much more like himself again, but the last time Credence had seen him like this, it hadn’t been him, but another wearing his face as a disguise. And he’s still far too thin, the suit must have been expertly fitted before, now it hangs loosely on him, accentuating just how much weight he’s lost.  

Percival looks at himself in the mirror and screws his nose up in distaste. “I’ll need to get everything altered,” he mutters.

“Or don’t go back to work until they fit again,” Credence says. He runs his thumb along Percival’s stubbled jaw, marvelling that he’s allowed to touch him this way. “You need a shave.”

“I know,” Percival says. “I thought it could wait until we get home.”

_Home._

The word tugs at Credence’s heart, and brings a lump to his throat.

_Please let me keep this. Let me keep him._

Percival frowns. “What’s wrong?” he says.

“Nothing,” Credence says. “Everything.”

“I want you to come with us,” Percival peers into his face. “That was never a question, I - “ he winces as Nimue squeals loudly. The children are squabbling over something and Cal has just conjured up a slimeball and lobbed it at her.

Percival cups Credence’s cheek. “We’ll talk at home,” he says and goes over to separate the twins.

“For god's sake, you’re not not six any more! And Cal, we’ve talked about you doing magic out of school!”

“She started it!”

“I did not!”

“Well, I’m _finishing_ it - Percy, put that _down!”_  

“My goodness, I forget just how many four is,” says a smooth, silken voice from the door, and Credence looks up to see a black woman in a turban-like head-dress, two blonde curls peeking out.  Her smile is quite lovely but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The children fall silent immediately. Tina stands behind her, a tortured expression on her face.  

“Madam President,” Percival says. “This is a surprise.”

Credence’s blood freezes in his veins. The President? What does she want? Does she know about him, but how could she? Not unless Tina has told her, and she wouldn’t do that. He’s sure of that much at least.

“A pleasant one I hope,” the woman is saying as she steps into the room. She looks around at the children. “Well, look at you four. All grown up.”

They don’t respond to that, though Credence thinks he sees a flicker of annoyance. They cluster behind their father.

“Say how-d’you-do to Madam Picquery,” Percival says. “Manners, remember.”

They mumble out the phrase, their voices indistinct and clashing together and Picquery chuckles. “Maybe not quite so grown up,” she says.

“Not quite,” Percival says. “What do we owe the honour? I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“I wanted to talk to you about this,” Picquery lifts up a scroll.

“Can’t it wait?” Percival says. “I want to go home.”

“To the apartment?”

“For now,” Percival nods. “We’ll head out to the North Shore tomorrow or the day after.”

“I suppose I could have waited,” Picquery says. “But if what you’ve surmised is correct, it’s a very serious issue. Shouldn’t we be taking action immediately.”

“No,” Percival says. “You don’t want to be doing anything. If we don’t think it through, we’re going to make mistakes. Act too quickly and all we’re going to do is tip them off.”

“Hmm,” Picquery mulls this over. She doesn’t seem to have recognised Credence. She’s barely paid any attention to him at all. “I’ll call on you at the house then?” she says. “You’ll let me know when you can discuss it.”

“Sure,” Percival says. His eyes meet Credence’s for a moment.

“You can send word with your carrier pigeon,” Picquery inclines her head at Tina, who grimaces. “I hear you're having her re-do her reports.”

“That’s right,” Percival says. “And you can do one too while you’re at it. You must have been in fairly close contact with him.”

She’s been smiling almost constantly since she walked in, but the one she gives Percival now is the first hint of true warmth that Credence has seen from her.

“Careful, Graves,” she says. “I’ve been told to keep you away from the office for a month, I can’t have you running an investigation from your bedroom.”

“We may not have a choice,” Percival says. “A month’s a long time, and the International Council - “

“The International Council takes time off for Christmas, same as everyone else,” Picquery says. She’s beginning to thaw. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come - _this_ worried me. I’ll see to it that everything gets done. All you need to do now is go home and rest.”  

She turns her attention to Credence and her eyes dance with amusement. “And this must be your - “

“This is Credence,” Percival says quickly.

"I don't believe we've met Mr - ?"

This is the woman who wants him dead. Who gave the order to kill him. And she's holding her hand out for Credence to shake, and Credence can't move. He can't speak.

"It's just Credence," Nimue says.

"Like Merlin," Cal supplies. “Or -“ the boy frowns. “Actually, I can’t think of anyone else.”

They can tell he’s upset. Even though they can’t know why, they move closer to Credence and Nimue slips her hand into his - just like Modesty used to, and oh god, he can't think of her - and it's the first time Nimue has done that, and why, _why_ is this happening now?

Picquery's looks at Credence searchingly and frowns. She might not recognise his face, but it's clear she knows his name.

"Barebone," Percival says. "His name is Credence Barebone."

Credence laughs explosively at the sight of the President's face. It isn't funny. It isn't the slightest bit funny - but oh it is. It’s so funny, it’s hilarious.

"Barebone?" Izzy says. "Like Bartholomew Barebone?"

"More or less," Percival says, evenly.

What is he doing?

Not this. Not all over again. Credence can’t live through this again.

"He's the Barebone boy?" Picquery gapes at Credence. "So he’s the  - but it was destroyed. I saw it die."

"More or less," Percival says again and Credence giggles. Nimue pulls her hand out of his and that hurts, and he knows he must be frightening her, but he can't stop.

He flinches as Percival comes up to him, for a second he's afraid he's going to strike him, like the other one had. And it’s all happening again. There are children frightened of him, and a man who he trusts, who he loves about to wash his hands of him -

_I thought you were different. I thought you were my friend. I thought you loved me._

\-  but all he does is to take Credence’s face in his hands and lift his head up.

“Credence, look at me,” he says. “Hey, stay with me.”  

He’s said something like that before, when he was trying to talk Credence down. And it had worked then and it’s working now. Credence looks into his face and his eyes are the same deep, dark brown they’ve always been.

 _Stay with me_. It isn’t I love you, but it’s something like it.

Percival slides one hand down over Credences throat.

“I’m not going to lie about you,” he says, softly. “I won’t hide you away like you’re some sort of shameful secret. You trust me?”

Credence nods wordlessly.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Percival says. He inclines his head towards the President. “I’ll deal with her. No-one’s going to hurt you.”

“That’s what _he_ said,” Credence whispers. “That anyone who harmed me would answer to him.”

Percival’s hand trembles against Credence’s neck.

“Yeah?” he says. “There’s a difference, though, Credence. He was nothing but a big phony. I’m the real deal.”

Credence closes his eyes and breathes out. “Percival.”

“I’ve got this,” Percival says, softly, and softer still, meant for Credence’s ears only: “I’ve got _you_. And I don’t mean to let you go. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, and he’s not okay, but when Percival says it, god help him, he believes he will be.  

“Good,” Percival says. He leans his forehead against Credence’s for a moment and pats his cheek. Then he steps away and Credence feels impossibly empty at the lack of his touch.

“Now scram,” he nods at the door. “Go to the waiting room. That goes for you kids as well.”

“But Dad -” Izzy starts to protest, but Percival cuts her off.

“Don’t ‘But _Dad’_ me. _Dad_ has to talk to the President now. You’re going to go to the waiting room and _wait_ and Dad will talk to you when we get home. Okay? Tina, you stay here. I want a witness to this conversation.”

“Yes, Dad - er - _sir!”_ Tina stammers, going red at her mistake. “Yes, sir!”

Percival grimaces. “Thanks, Goldstein. Like I don’t feel old enough already.”

“Sorry, Mr Graves.”

“You want a _witness?”_ the President says, glaring at Percival. “Graves you’d better start explaining this second - “

“In a _moment!”_ Percival says. He jabs his thumb at the door. “You heard me. Out!”

It’s Cal who takes Credence’s hand this time, stronger and firmer than his twin's. He tugs urgently and Credence lets himself be led from the room. It all feels so unreal, like he’s watching this happen to someone else.

 _This place, it doesn’t feel real,_ Percival had said to him, and now Credence knows what he means. While Percival was in the hospital, they’d been able to keep away from the wider world, had been able to pretend that they were a family and it didn’t matter that Credence was an abomination who had committed terrible crimes.

He walks like he’s in a daze, not really sure of where he’s going. He’s aware of Nimue and Percy pressing closer to him. Out of the four these two are softer, more sensitive and Credence can see how upset they are, how worried.

 _Everyone goes away,_ Percy had said yesterday. And it hadn’t occurred to Credence to ask what he meant by everyone.

There are grandparents in Jersey but they’re the sort of people who won’t visit their son-in-law after he’s suffered a terrible ordeal. They won't even inconvenience themselves for a few days so the children can be close to their father. There’s an Uncle Lance, Percival’s brother, but he’s never there.

He feels like he’s failed them. Like he’s just one more adult who’s let them down.

"Barebone?" Izzy hisses at him as soon as they're in the waiting room. "Those No-Majs who want to bring back witch burning? I thought you were - I mean, I didn't realise you were a _Barebone_!"

"Were you a scourer?" Cal says, his eyes wide and afraid. He lets go of Credence’s hand and steps away.

_Don’t be afraid of me. Please don’t be afraid of me._

“I don’t know,” Credence chokes out. “I don’t know what that means. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _I’m -”_

“Why are you sorry?” Percy says. “Did you do something wrong?”

“Yes,” he says.

_But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know._

How can he explain to them what he is? How does he even begin?

“What did you do?” Nimue asks. “Did you - did you burn witches?”

“No,” Credence says. “No, not that. We never did anything like that. We never _did_ anything.”

He collapses into a chair and looks up at them, the four of them standing close together, watching him.

Izzy takes a step towards him. “That’s why you never went to Ilvermorny,” she says.

“I didn’t _know_ ,” Credence says.

“I thought - “ Izzy says and swallows. She takes another step towards him, and Credence knows she’s figured it out. She knows what he is. She’s smart, this girl, smart and brave and so determined to keep her family together, to protect her younger brothers and sister. She has her mother’s nose and her father’s eyes that never miss anything.

"An Obscurus develops under very specific conditions,” she whispers, like she’s reciting the definition from a book. “Trauma associated with the use of magic, internalised hatred of one’s own magic and a conscious attempt to suppress it."

His hold on the _thing_ slips, and his eyes roll back as the black, swirling force bursts from him, knocking over over all the chairs in the room, and shattering the glass in the windows.

The  children jump back as it whips around him. Credence drops to his knees. The impact hurts but the pains helps him focus, helps him to force it back inside. Credence falls forward, braces himself on his hands, nearly blacks out with the effort it takes to pull himself back together.

“Credence?” Percy says, in a trembling tearful voice.

“I have to go,” Credence says, scrambling to his feet. It’s gone. It’s quiet now, tucked away back down deep inside him. “I’m sorry. Wait for your father. Don’t follow me.”

He stumbles away blindly, almost making it to the door when Izzy beats him to it. She darts in front of him, blocking his path.

“Dad said we had to wait for him,” she says, looking up at him, pale but defiant.

“Please, Izzy,” Credence says “ _Please_.”

“He said he would fix it,” Izzy says. “And you said you trusted him. Were you lying?”

“No,” Credence says. “I do trust him, but it isn’t safe.”

“If you run away, he’ll only go looking for you,” she says.  “And he’s not well enough yet. You know that.”

“I know, but you know what I am, Izzy. You’ve done your homework,” Credence says. “You know what I’ve done.”

“I knew those things yesterday,” she says. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Why not?” Credence says, desperately. “You should be. I’m dangerous. If I lose control of it, you could get hurt.”

“Then don’t lose control,” she glares fiercely at him. “My Dad will never love you if you hurt us, so keep it together, _Obscurial.”_      

He laughs at that, he can’t help himself. And he feels infinitely better for it, as if his world isn’t ending after all.

“What if I can’t do it?” he says. “I could never live with myself if I - “

“But you _can_ do it,” Cal interjects. “Just now. We _saw_ you control it. And - and last night Nim said she saw you farting smoke and nothing bad happened so you must have controlled it then too.”

“What?” Izzy says flatly.

“I didn’t say _farting,”_ Nimue says. “That’s what Cal said.”

“You described it like it was farting.”

“Enough with the farting!” Izzy says, exasperated. “ _God!_ That isn’t the point. The point is, Credence, you don’t have to go _,_ so just _stay._ You said you would stay.”

He wants to cry. He wants to fall to knees and give thanks, but he doesn’t think any of them would appreciate it.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” he says instead.

“Who says I like you?” she retorts. “You’re a weird, tall idiot, but Dad likes you,“ she shrugs and points at her siblings. “ _T_ _hey_ like you.”  

The three of them are huddled together. They look right back at him, uncertain and anxious, but they aren’t afraid, Credence realises. They aren’t afraid of him.

Percy takes a faltering step towards him. His lower lips wobbles, he’s trying hard not to cry, Credence realises and reaches out to him, and Percy runs into his arms and hugs his waist.

“Okay,” Credence breathes. “Okay, I’ll stay. If he lets me, I’ll stay.”  

Credence still needs to talk to Percival about last night. Once he hears what Credence has to say he might change his mind. But he might not.

“Fine,” Izzy says. “ _Good._ We ought to pick up these chairs.”

“Thank you,” Credence murmurs to her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, dismissing him with a wave. But then she takes his hand and gives it a firm, business like shake.

“And you think I’m weird,” Credence says, laughing shakily. He wonders if she’d let him hug her, but she lets him go and walks away before he finds the nerve to try.

Izzy picks up a chair, and sets it down in its proper place with a bang. “Well?” she says. “What are you waiting for? The spell to fix the windows is _Reparo.”_

 

* * *

 

“Ha!” Picquery scoffs when the children and Credence have gone. “We need to find you better healers because you’ve _clearly_ lost your mind!”

“He saved my life,” Graves says wearily. “Did it not occur to you to wonder _how_ exactly I escaped from Grindelwald? It was him. He rescued me. He tore that place apart to get to me and he took me home.”

Picquery breathes out through her nose. “You!” she rounds on Tina furiously. “You knew and you deliberately kept it a secret!”

“You’d have killed him,” Tina says. “He’s done nothing wrong and you would have only tried to kill him again. I couldn’t let that happen!”

“Leave her alone, Picquery” Graves says. He sits down on the bed, heavily. “Even if she had wanted to tell you, I’d have asked her not to.”

“So what were you planning to do? Hide him in the attic?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Graves says. “I told you, I had no plans of hiding him. I would have told you, just not like this. I’d have done it when I got back to work.”

“When all the furor about the Obscurus had died down, you mean?” Picquery’s upper lip curls back.

“When I thought he could have this conversation,” Graves says. “He isn’t dangerous. Not anymore. Whatever you did to him has given him some measure of control over it.”

“Did your secret keeper tell you he’s killed three people?” Picquery shoots Tina a scathing look. “Or did she leave that part out?”

“She told me,” Graves says. “And so did he. He’s told me everything. I’m telling you, he can control his magic now. Do you honestly think I would have let him anywhere near my children if I thought there was the slightest chance he would harm them?”

“You let him near the children?” Picquery gapes at him. “Is that what - all this time have you been playing house with it?”

“ _He’s_ not dangerous,” Graves insists.

“How do you think Annie would feel knowing you left her children with a monster?”

“Annie?” Graves’ laugh is an ugly, shrill, mirthless thing that chills Tina’s blood. “How would _Annie_ feel? How do you think she’d feel knowing you couldn’t tell her _husband_ apart from a dangerous fanatic even though you’d worked beside him for twenty years?”

Picquery at least has the grace to look ashamed at that. “Percival - “

“How do you think she would feel if I’d died, trapped in that bunker underground, and left her children to grow up orphans? Because I _would_ have. If he hadn’t found me when he did - if he hadn’t come looking for me do you think you’d have found me in time? Because I know you wouldn’t have. I’d have died and you wouldn’t even have known. You didn’t know. _No-one_ did.”

“It’s not as if you’re an open book, Graves,” Picquery says. “After she died, you shut everyone else out. You - “

“He sent two people to be executed immediately. Without a trial. When have I ever - you didn’t think that was odd?”

“I trusted your judgement!”

“Well you _shouldn’t_ have!” Graves shouts. “Tina is many things but a traitor isn’t one of them, and the Council would have had a field day if I’d executed Scamander with no real evidence! You honestly thought I would -” he stops and breathes raggedly.

“I didn’t,” Tina says, and she doesn’t know why she’s getting involved in this - she’d been asked to witness this conversation, not to participate in it, but he looks so betrayed. “When it was happening, I couldn’t believe that you would, but I never imagined that anyone could be impersonating you!”

“It was a sound assumption that the creature had come from Scamander’s case,” Picquery says. “We all  thought that. So it wasn’t out of the question that he might have released it deliberately.”

“ _Really?_ Scamander who'd only just arrived? The first incident was dated months before Scamander or his suitcase were anywhere near New York. How is that a _sound assumption?”_

“We’d never dealt with anything of this kind before,” Picquery says, evenly. “Our world was on the brink of discovery - it was not a normal situation, none of us were behaving normally.”

“That’s not an excuse!” Graves says. “There’s no excuse for abandoning our basic -” he stops as his right arm spasms, doubles over and grips his own knees so tightly that his knuckles go white.

Picquery reaches out to him but he pulls away. “Don’t touch me,” he hisses at her. “And leave Annie out of this.”

“I apologise for that,” Picquery says. “It was uncalled for. I’m sorry, Percival.”

Graves glares at her. “Don’t _push_ me on this, _Seraphina_ ,” he says. “Leave the boy to me.”

“I understand that you think - “ she stops at Graves’ thunderous expression and begins again. “I understand you owe him a life debt -”

“It isn’t the life debt,” Graves says. “If I thought he was dangerous or to blame for any of this the life debt wouldn’t stop me. You _know -”_ he laughs again, ragged and harsh. “Well, I suppose you _don’t_ know me. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Bitter doesn’t suit you, Graves,” Picquery says. “And I know you well enough to know that _this_ thing is personal with you. The healers seem to think you’re involved - is he your lover? Is that what it is?”

“My _lover,”_ Graves scoffs. “You think this is about sex? That I’ve had my head turned by a pretty little thing who keeps my bed warm at night? You think I’ve started to think with my cock in my old age, Picquery. Is _that_ what it is?”

Tina winces at the crudeness of his words. She’ll admit that she’s curious about the nature of Graves’ relationship with Credence too, but right now she wishes she could be anywhere but here.

“Not yet then,” Picquery says. A mocking, knowing smirk flickers across her face before she replaces it with something that almost looks like concern. “I don’t think it’s about sex, Graves. I think you’ve been lonely. And this boy came in at the right time to -”

“Oh spare me,” Graves sneers. “Save the analysis, Picquery. You were never any good at it. You want to be practical? Let’s be practical. Humour me. Let’s say I let you take Credence in? What exactly are you going to do with him? Kill him? You tried that, it didn’t take. Lock him up? What prison do you think could hold him?”

Picquery purses her lips. “And _you_ can save the theatrics. He needs to be neutralised. The Obscurus must be removed from the host.”

“How are you going to do that without killing him?” Graves says. “Why do you think that would even work without even more destruction - and this time you don’t have a thunderbird ready to obliviate a few thousand No-Majs.”

“Newt thinks he could do it,” Tina says quickly. “He thinks he can help Credence. Mr Graves, if anyone can do it - Newt can. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you?” Graves says. “Because I’m not. Has he done it before?”

Tina wrings her hands in discomfort. “There was the little girl in Sudan -”

“Let me rephrase - has he ever done it before without killing the host?”

When she doesn’t answer, Graves nods decisively. “I didn’t think so. And I guess Credence wasn’t very receptive when you asked him about it yesterday- that’s what upset him, wasn’t it?”

“Mr Graves-”

“If he wants to try, that’s his decision,” Graves says. “But I won’t ask him to.”

“He’d do it if you asked him to,” Tina says. “He trusts you. He’d do anything you said.”

Graves shakes his head.

“Mr Graves, he believes he’ll survive the process,” Tina says. “He won't do it because he’s afraid of losing his magic, but you know it will kill him if it isn’t removed.”

“I don’t know that,” Graves says. “Listen, it happens when they reach breaking point, right? When they’re so desperate they put everything they have into the Obscurus until there’s nothing left for them to survive. But he can control it. He can harness that energy for his own - “  

“If you’re planning to use him, you’re as deluded as Grindelwald,” Picquery says. “That sort of power can’t be controlled.”

“ _Use_ him?” Graves says. “I don’t want to use him. I want to -” he sighs and stares at his trembling hands. “An Obscurus forms because of the host suppressing their magic,” he says. “He isn’t suppressing it any more. He needs some guidance, that’s all. He needs someone to help him learn control. Damn it all, the boy’s a goddamned miracle, can’t you see that?”

His eyes are very bright and he blinks rapidly, looking away.

“We don’t have to decide anything now,” Picquery says. “We can talk more when you’re back - “

“No, we’ll decide it now,” Graves says firmly. He pulls out a handkerchief and quickly wipes something off his face. “And you’ll leave him to me. You’ll agree to leave him to me or you’ll have my resignation tomorrow morning.”

If looks could kill Graves would be a smouldering heap on the ground, Picquery’s glaring so fiercely at him. She says nothing for a long moment, working her jaw like she’s grinding her teeth.

“You think that much of yourself?” she says in a low, dangerous voice. “You aren’t irreplaceable, Percival. We’ve all seen that.”

Graves composure drops at her words. Tina can see that Picquery’s truly hurt him.

“That isn’t true,” she feels moved to say. “He didn’t replace Mr Graves. Not really. We’re all so used to following his orders and them turning out fine that no one thought to question the bad ones.”

“That’s okay, Tina,” Graves gets to his feet and touches her arm lightly. “Thanks, but you don’t have to defend me. And you do need me, Seraphina. You read my letter, and you know I’m right. MACUSA’s compromised. Grindelwald _must_ have placed spies among us, maybe for years. He couldn’t have pulled something like this off otherwise. It’s going to be a _huge_ operation to root them out, you have no idea. We’re going to have to go through everything, everyone. On top of a full security overhaul. You really want to be picking a new Security Director right now? Especially when you have no way of knowing who could be one of Grindelwald’s moles.”   

Picquery bites her lower lip. He has her worried now.

“We’re a joke, Picquery,” Graves says. “I’m surprised that no one’s calling for your resignation.”

“Oh, they are,” she says wearily. “Haven’t you been reading the papers?”

“They won’t let me have any,” Graves says. He sits down on the bed again and holds out his trembling right hand. “They think  it makes _this_ worse.”

“Shit,” Picquery mutters. She sits down beside him. “You really aren’t okay, are you, Percival?”

“No,” Graves says. “Not really.”

Picquery reaches for Graves’ hand again and this time he lets her. She squeezes his index and middle fingers in her fist, and Grave pushes down on the top of her hand with his thumb. Tina has the feeling this is something they’ve done before. There’s something familiar and practiced about this gesture. And for all their sniping earlier, Tina realises that they really are friends. They do care for each other.

“We can salvage this,” Graves says. “We have two years left. Do you want _this_ to be your legacy, Seraphina? Because I don’t. I don’t want to go down as a footnote - as just another casualty of Grindelwald’s rebellion.”

“Appealing to my ego?” Picquery says with a wan smile.

“You know it. Is it working?”

“A little,” she sighs. She lets go of his fingers.  “You’re wearing your wedding ring.”

“Yes.”

“I _am_ sorry about what I said before. She would have wanted you to do the right thing - whatever that is. I’m not sure I know.”

“It’s what I have to do,” Graves says. “I don’t know if it’s the right thing. I don’t know if it’s what she’d want me to do. But I have to see this through - I have to stand by him. I don’t expect you to understand the reasons why, just understand that I need to do this. I need _him.”_

“Do you love him?”

Graves doesn’t answer. He looks down at his ring and twists it around his finger. Then he grins weakly and nudges his arm against hers. “It would have never worked between us, Picquery. No matter what the rumours say.”

She pushes him. “Watch it, Graves. Alright, none of my business. Another question might be do you think its enough to keep him in line.”

“When is it ever that simple?” Graves says. “Did love ever keep you in line? Or me? Credence doesn’t need me - oh, he needs someone to believe in him, and someone he can trust, but that doesn’t have to be _me._ Tina could do it. Or you could have Scamander come and pack him away in his suitcase. That’s beside the point.”

“The point being that you need him?”

“I need to be the one to help him through this. Not for his sake, but for mine. And it’s not because I owe him, or because I feel guilty that I let him down. I can’t - I’m done discussing this, Sera. I need him. Either you let me have this - let me have him, or I’m _done.”_

Picquery breaths out and shakes her head. “I must be losing my mind,” she mutters. And that’s when Tina knows for sure that she’s going to give him what he wants.

And Graves always knew that she would. That’s why he wanted Tina here as a witness after all. He wanted her to watch Picquery agree to it, so that she can’t change her mind later and try to claim otherwise.

Picquery’s going to let Graves take on Credence, and Tina wishes she knew for sure if that’s a good thing or not.

 

* * *

 

After the chairs are put back into their proper places and the windows are fixed, there’s nothing to do but wait. It takes forever, each second lasting an age and yet when Percival steps into the waiting room, it feels like it had taken no time at all. He’s carrying his suitcase in one hand and the cactus, absurdly, floats behind him.

He places the suitcase on the floor. “How come you’re so quiet,” he says. “Nobody’s died.”

“Have you fixed things with the President,” Izzy says.

“I have,” Percival says. “So it looks like we’re all stuck with each other for now. I hope that’s okay with everyone.”

He looks at each of the children in turn, and then his eyes settle of Credence and he smiles. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really _really_ don't like this chapter but it's sort of a bridge to the next one, which will be better. (At least I hope it will be better, but either way there will be more kissing.)


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as Percival sets foot in the apartment he’s set upon by an orange, furry mass meowing and pawing at his legs like an oversized kitten.

“Hey, Toby,” Percival says. “Did you miss me?”

He picks up the cat and nuzzles its big squashed face. Toby rubs his head against Percival’s cheek and neck. “I missed you,” Percival murmurs to him. “But I’m glad one of us made it out.”  

Toby butts his forehead against Percival’s and chirrups at him. Percival chuckles and lets the cat jump out of his arms onto the floor. “Had enough, huh?”

Toby winds himself around Percival’s legs.

“He’s getting fur all over your suit,” Nimue says. Cal nudges her.

“I don’t care,” Percival says, leaning down to crumple Toby’s ears. “Bitsy can fix it, anyway.”

On cue a series of crashes come from the kitchen, like someone is putting away pots and pans very angrily. Percival sighs, and takes his greatcoat off, draping it over a chair.

“I guess I’ll go talk to her before she breaks something and tries to set her ears on fire,” he says.

Credence still feels lost and unmoored, so he follows Percival as he goes to the kitchen and leans against the door frame.

“Hi, Bitsy,” Percival says.

The house elf grunts. She pulls out a large copper kettle and slams the cabinet door shut.

“Bitsy is very busy,” she says.

“Where did _that_ come from?” Percival says. “I don’t own a kettle that size.”

“Belonged to Bitsy’s mistress,” Bitsy says. She turns her back to him, conjures up a cloth and starts to polish it aggressively.  

“She means it was my grandmother’s,” Percival explains to Credence. “She still called my father Master Gerry when he was in his sixties. He died about twenty years ago,” he adds to Credence’s questioning look.

“Your father’s name was Gerry?” Credence says.  

“Geraint.”

“Bitsy was there when Master Gerry was born,” Bitsy says scrubbing away at the kettle. “Bitsy was only a young elf then.”

Toby pads into the kitchen and Bitsy rounds on him. “No! Bad cat! Not be getting fur in Bitsy’s kitchen!”

“Don’t yell at him,” Percival says, sharply. He scoops up the hissing cat and then sits down on the floor cross legged. Credence stares down at him.

Bitsy sniffs loudly and turns back to her kettle.

“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me,” Percival says, a wheedling tone creeps into his voice. Credence can picture it now: Percival as a young boy, sat on the floor, his big orange cat on his lap, trying to charm treats out of this ill-tempered little creature as she works.

Bitsy glowers at Percival over her shoulder and he sighs.

“There wasn’t any time to summon you when it happened,” he says quietly. “And I wouldn’t have, even if there was. They’d have killed you, Bits.”

A big, fat tear drops out of Bitsy’s eye and splashes onto the floor.

“Could have killed _you,_ ” she says.

“I know,” Percival says. “They nearly did. But I’m here now, and I know you don’t like it here, but we’ll go back home tomorrow.”

Bitsy wipes her eyes with the hem of the pillow case she uses for a dress before turning around.

“If Master Percy had died - “

“I _didn’t,_ ” Percival says. “And you couldn’t have done anything to help me. So don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault you weren’t there.”

He lifts Toby off his lap and hugs the cat to his chest. “And I’m _glad_ you never came here to check on me. _You_ would have known. _You_ would have seen right through him and he would have known that. He’d have cut you down as soon as you stepped through that fireplace? You think he gives a damn about the life of a house elf?”

Toby makes a sound of protest and struggles against him and Percival breathes out and lets him go. Credence wants to go to him, he wants to kneel down on the ground beside him and put his arms around him, but he has the sense to know that this doesn’t concern him.

The house elf’s huge brown eyes bulge as she rocks back on her heels. She takes a few slow jerky steps towards Percival.

“Bitsy was thinking of making peach cobbler for dessert tonight,” she says. Credence blinks at the non sequitur but Percival just nods.

“That would be nice.”

“Has to be from cans,” she says. “Peaches don’t grow in the wintertime.”

“I know,” Percival says. “Don’t worry. I won’t throw the bowl at you.”

Bitsy grins and covers it up quickly. “That was Master Lance,” she says. “Master Percy never threw anything at Bitsy.”

She suddenly flings herself at him and wails. Percival gives her an awkward, one armed hug and pats her back. “Come on, Bits,” he murmurs. “Keep it together.”

She straightens up and sniffs, tugging at the pillow case. Percival quickly gives her his handkerchief. “It’s not clothes,” he says. “Just so you don’t snot over everything.”

“Don’t matter if it was clothes,” Bitsy says, taking it from him and blowing her bulbous nose in it. “Master Percy not Bitsy's master.”

“Sure,” Percival says. “But that wouldn’t stop you from getting mad again if you thought I was trying.”

Bitsy snorts and then roughs the top of Percival’s hair, knocking it out of place. “Master Percy was always a good boy,” she says. “Like Master Gerry. Master Lance was always making trouble.”

Percival smiles warmly and pushes his hair out of his face as he gets to his feet. “We’ll go home tomorrow,” he says. “Everything ready?”

Bitsy nods. “Bitsy makes a guest room ready,” she says, “But maybe not needed.”

Percival’s eyes flicker upwards to meet Credence’s. “Maybe not.”

 

* * *

 

After Credence helps him shave, Percival kisses him.

There’s no lead up to it, no warning. One moment Percival’s washing the soap off his face, and saying something about how terrible the water pressure at the hospital was, and the next he’s far too close to Credence, having moved so quickly he may as well have apparated.

“What?” Credence whispers, shrinking back, and Percival frowns. “Are you afraid of me?” he says and Credence shakes his head.

“Don’t be,” Percival says, and kisses him.

Credence melts against him as he kisses him back. He should never have doubted Percival, he’d given Credence no cause to, but he’s spent a lifetime wanting to be loved, and thinking - knowing himself to be unlovable. He doesn’t know how to begin to believe that Percival might truly want him. But the feel of Percival’s mouth against his, hot and wanting, just might help.

Percival pushes his tongue between Credence’s parted lips - that’s new, he hasn’t done that before and Credence gasps in surprise.

Percival pulls back an apologetic look on his face, but Credence clutches at his collar, curls his fingers into Percival’s hair and drags him back.

“Do that again,” he murmurs against Percival’s mouth. He kisses Percival softly, suckling at his lower lip.

Percival lets out a quiet moan and licks into Credence’s mouth. He’s softer and gentler than the first time, Credence pushes his own tongue against Percival’s tentatively and - _oh -_  he makes a strangled noise of pure need and _want_ and this spurs Percival on and he deepens the kiss further and Credence’s arms are around his neck now pulling him close, as close as he can get. Credence wants Percival to devour him, he wants to be _owned,_ to own Percival in return.

He whines when Percival pulls away. “Don’t stop,” he gasps.

Percival runs his fingers over Credence’s lips, kisses him softly, and leans his forehead against his.

“I promised _them,”_ he says, and Credence nods. “Okay,” he says, breathing hard, but instead of moving he pushes his face into Percival’s neck.

“Credence,” Percival breathes.

“I love you,” Credence says, “I love you so much I could die.”

Percival pushes his leg between Credence’s and he sobs, pushes back against it, feeling hot and ashamed and Percival laughs and runs the tip of his finger over the front of Credence’s pants.

“You want me to take care of that?”

Credence pushes his hand away. “No,” he says, tears springing in his eyes. “No, that’s not what -”

“I know,” Percival says. He reaches out and holds onto Credence firmly, refusing to let him move away. “I _know.”_ He kisses Credence’s cheek softly. “I know they’re two different things, Credence, but there’s only one we can deal with now, so, do you want me to?”

“It’ll go away on its own,” Credence says sulkily. Percival kisses the edge of his jaw.

“Okay,” he says. “Whatever you want, darling.”

The endearment makes Credence’s gut clench painfully and this time he’s the one refusing to let the other go.

He kisses Percival, desperate, and hard and sloppy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he suspects he’s making a terrible mess of things but he doesn’t want to stop.

“Slow down,” Percival pants when Credence lets him up for air. “You don’t have to -’  

“I love you,” Credence says fiercely. “And it’s not because of this. It’s because of you. Because of who you are _.”_

“I know,” Percival says again, his voice low. “I believe you. Please stop saying it.”

“Why?” Credence says, he’s close to tears now. “I don’t care if you don’t love me back.” He can’t help the crack in his voice and Percival takes his face between his hands and kisses him firmly.

“It’s not that,” he says and kisses Credence again. “It isn’t _that._ I just -”

“Just _what_?”

“Just need to work up to it, that’s all. I told you, nothing feels real right now. It’s not that I _don’t_ , I just need time.”

“Why do you keep kissing me then?” Credence says. He should walk away. If Percival needs time then he should take the time, and Credence should walk out of his arms and keep his distance until he’s ready. And Credence knows that he needs to talk to Percival about the dark, ugly things that lurk inside him, but even as he’s thinking this, he’s turning his face into Percival’s open collar to nuzzle at his neck.

“I like kissing you,” Percival says and hisses as Credence presses a kiss to the hollow of his neck. “Should I - do you want me to stop?”

“You should stop,” Credence says. “But I don’t want you to. I like kissing you too.”

He likes the sound of Percival’s laugh. Likes it when he smiles in the way that lights his whole face up, he likes it even more when he knows that _he’s_ the reason Percival’s smiling. Percival tilts Credence’s chin up so he can kiss him again, but Credence stops him with his fingers against his lips.

“I’m not going to stop saying it,” Credence says. “I love you.”

Percival flinches. “If it means that much to you - ”

“It does,” Credence says. “I love you and I know you feel bad because you can’t say it back, but I reckon that’s your problem, not mine. I’m in love with you and if I can give you time, you can put up with hearing me say it.”

Percival shakes his head. “Alright,” he says. “Okay. You’re right. It’s my problem. I’ll deal with it. God, I had to pick the most ridiculous -”

“Your _face_ is the most ridiculous, but I still love you.”

He doesn’t flinch this time, he only laughs in the way that warms Credence’s heart. "Can I kiss you now?" he says. “Once more and then we really need to go before the kids come looking for us.”

Credence nods and he does.

 

* * *

 

The children are playing a loud and chaotic game of wizard’s chess when Credence and Percival go downstairs.

None of them have the patience to play so they’ve made up their own variant where they split themselves into teams (it’s always Izzy and Percy versus the twins) and the only strategy is to shout conflicting instructions to the battered pieces at the same time.

Credence had been faintly horrified when they’d introduced him to the game a few days ago and he’d learnt that in Wizard’s chess the pieces move on their own accord and attack each other. Credence personally thinks that Cal would be good if he ever decided to play normally but for now he’s content to yell at his bishop to attack Izzy’s queen.

“You think this is bad, you oughta watch em play Mahjong,” Percival mutters. “Is that my good chess set?”

“Ours is back in the big house,” Nimue says. “And you took too long shaving. We were bored.”

“You didn’t take that long the first time Credence helped,” Cal says innocently, but Credence is fairly sure he knows exactly what he’s saying.

Percival just hums noncommittally and waves his wand to pack the pieces away. “That is your grandfather’s chess set,” he says. “Treat it with a little respect.”

“Why?” says Izzy. “Grandma always used to say that _he_ couldn’t play either.”

“He could play,” Percival says. “But he could never beat her. Right. One of you go and ask Bitsy to make some cocoa.”

 

* * *

 

Credence wonders if there’s some magic in the cocoa that makes it taste nicer than any he’s ever had before. It warms him all the way down to his core and he feels strangely calm after only a few sips.

“So,” Percival says, tapping on the side of his own mug. “How much do you know?”

They all answer him at the same time and he winces and shushes them.

“Isolde why don’t you answer that. You probably have the least ridiculous theories.”

“We know he’s an Obscurial,” Izzy says nodding at Credence. “He kind-of changed into his Obscurus at the hospital today, but I’d worked it out before then.”

“He did _what?”_  Credence can feel Percival looking at him but he just hunkers over his cocoa, refusing to meet his eye.

“It was only for a few seconds,” Cal says. “Oh and we think he did it the other night too, but it wasn’t all explodey. It was more like - uh - I dunno Nim, you saw it.”

“LIke he went blurry for a moment,” she says. “And there was smoke.”

“I didn’t see that!” Percy says, sounding offended. “Where was I when this happened.”

“You were in your room,” Cal says. “You kicked him, remember.”

“That was _your_ fault! You were being mean!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Izzy says. “The point is we know Credence is an Obscurial and we know he’s a Barebone, because _you_ told everyone, Dad, and we worked out the rest ourselves.”

“What rest?” Percy demands.

“ _I_ worked out the rest myself, then. They didn't,” Izzy says, and Credence does chance a look up to see her give her younger siblings a look of pure exasperation.

Percival groans and rubs his thumb between his eyes. “Mercy Lewis, Credence, were you going to tell me any of this?”

“Of course, I was going to tell you,” Credence says indignantly. “But there was never any time. It’s only been two hours since you got back.”

“Yes, okay. Sorry,” Percival mumbles, and he does look a little abashed. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the short version: Credence’s mother was a witch but she died shortly after he was born. In any other circumstances he would have likely presented magic by his eighth birthday, our people would have found him in the normal way and he’d have gone to Ilvermorny, like any other wizard. But he was adopted by Mary-Lou Barebone.

“I won’t get into details, it’s not my story to tell, but she was a very cruel woman, and Credence did end up suppressing his magic because of how she hurt him and her beliefs-”

Credence holds onto his cocoa mug tightly as Percival tells his story. He’s glad Percival doesn’t tell the children just how bad it had been with Ma. He doesn’t want them to pity him, and he has a strange need to protect them from how ugly the world can be. Percival skims over the senator’s death, and the events of the Second Salem church as well. He refuses to talk about what Grindelwald’s people had done to him, only picking up the story to describe how Credence had found him and brought him back to the same apartment where they’re all sitting.  

“Is that why Grindelwald took you?” Izzy asks sharply. “To find _him?”_

“It wasn’t Credence’s fault,” Percival says. “He didn’t know -”

“ _Did_ you know?” Izzy demands, leaning across the table towards Credence.

“No,” Credence says. “Not until the end.” He picks at the skin around his nails. “I thought it was my sister, Modesty. She had this toy - I don’t know where she got it, but - “ he swallows a mouthful of cocoa gone lukewarm by now, but still sweet and rich. Modesty would have liked it, he thinks.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Percival says. His hand twitches, like he was about to reach for Credence but thought better of it, or perhaps the shakes are back. Either way, Credence takes his hand and grips it tight.

“She was braver than me,” he says. “She was always so much braver than me. She knew what Ma would have done but she stepped forward anyway. Admitted that the wand was hers, not mine and I -”

Ma had hit Modesty before, she’d spanked her, but she’d never used the belt on her. She’d never broken her skin and he knew he had to stop it. He knew he couldn’t let it happen but he’d been unable to move, unable to speak, and then -

“ - I don’t think I knew, even then, that I was doing it. Not until after Ma was dead and the church was destroyed. I didn’t - it was after - when _he_ found me -” Credence clutches at Percival’s hand like it’s a lifeline. 

“I wanted to hurt him,” he says. “Like he hurt me.” He’d wanted to rip the other man in two, the way he’d ripped open Credence’s heart. “That’s when I knew for sure.”

He glances up at Isolde and she stares back, her brow furrowed. She doesn’t seem too impressed, but at least she doesn’t look like she’s sorry for him.

“How come you didn’t die when the aurors killed you?”

“I don’t know,” Credence says. “I don’t know how any of it works. Maybe I did, for a little while, but then I - I guess I woke up, and I realised I was still alive - I didn’t know how, but - “ Percival squeezes down of Credence’s hand and Credence looks up at him. “I needed to see you again,” he says. “I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got to you but I realised if I wanted you enough, I knew where to go. And when I found you, in that place - when I saw what he’d done to you, I knew what had happened. I knew it hadn’t been you at all.”

Percival’s eyes are so tired, and so sad. And perhaps this is why he can’t say out loud that he loves Credence. How can he, when Credence couldn’t tell him apart from a monster. How can he begin to believe it when Credence says it to him. For if Credence truly loved him, wouldn’t he have been able to tell?

“Don’t do that,” Percival says, quietly, but firmly. “I don’t blame you. I _don’t,_ okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Izzy scoffs, and Credence knows that even though Percival doesn’t blame him for not knowing, _she_ does.

“I’m sorry, Izzy,” he says miserably and she shrugs. “You and everyone else,” she mutters.

“ _Isolde,”_ Percival says.

“Ugh,” she says. “ _Fine._ I guess he did find the real you when it counted.”

If Credence wants her to say she forgives him, he knows he’ll be waiting a long time, but for now he’ll settle for grudging acceptance.

“Then you won’t give him a hard time about it?" Percival’s saying to her. “He does enough of that himself.”

“I won’t” she says, rolling her eyes. “But this doesn’t mean I have to _like_ him.”

“I guess we can live with that,” Percival sighs.

“So -” Cal says. “What happens now? Is Credence going to live with us?”

Credence doesn’t dare look at Percival even as his hand is warm, solid, grounding presence in his. Even though he _knows_ there would be no other answer, part of him is still surprised when Percival says yes.

“Yes,” he says. “He’ll stay with us. With me, when you’re in school. He’ll learn magic and we’ll figure out all the rest.”

“Are we going to adopt him?” Percy says.

“No!” Percival says immediately. His ears begin to go pink. “Er - that is - we’re not _adopting_ him.”

Nimue shrugs. “We know Credence is your boyfriend,” she says. “Except I guess Percy didn’t. But he knows _now_ cos I just said.”

“Boyfriend?” Credence squeaks, his voice sounds ridiculously high. “I’m not - I mean - we aren’t - “ he looks at Percival wildly. _Boyfriend?_ Credence loves Percival, he knows that much, and he thinks that Percival loves him back even if he can’t say it. But Credence isn’t sure he’s ready to give whatever’s between them a name, and “boyfriend” sounds so trivial, it lacks weight to describe the depth of his feelings.

Percival unwraps Credence’s hand from his own and fumbles for his cigarette case. His hands tremble as he takes one out and it takes him three tries to light it. He inhales deeply and then reaches for Credence’s hand again.

“Credence isn’t my boyfriend,” Percival says, slowly. “He isn’t my anything yet, but I do care for him a great deal.”

He gives Credence a questioning look and Credence nods shakily. “We haven’t really talked about it,” Percival admits.

Percy frowns. “Does he… care for you a great deal as well?” he says doubtfully.

“Yes,” Credence says. “I love him, Percy. You know that.”

“I didn’t think you meant it in a _boyfriend_ way.”

He looks so disgruntled that Credence isn’t sure whether to he should be insulted or amused.

“I can’t keep any secrets from you can I?” Percival mutters.

“Not really,” Cal says. “Did you want to it to be a secret?” He gives his twin a meaningful look that Credence takes to mean they’ve discussed this.

“If he wanted it to be a secret he wouldn’t be doing that,” Nimue gestures to their joined hands. “And the other stuff.”

“I wasn’t hiding it,” Percival says. “I guess I didn’t want to tell you anything until I was sure.”

“Sure of what?”

Percival grunts and smokes his cigarette. “I don’t know,” he says. “I told you we haven’t talked about it yet.”

Nimue glances at Cal who shrugs. “We don’t get it,” she says. “Do you, Izzy?”

Izzy smirks. “Credence is going to stay with us,” she says. “And he’s in love with Dad, but Dad isn’t sure if he loves Credence back yet, so he’s going to sneak off and kiss him in the bathroom until he makes up his mind.”

“ _Izzy!”_

“What? It’s the truth!”

Percival puts his head in his hands.

“Oh, is _that_ why you took so long shaving?” Percy says. He wrinkles his nose. “Because you were _kissing_?”

“Don’t be such a baby, Percy,” Cal says. “People kiss other people. The senior years are always necking each other.” He grins suddenly. “Izzy’s probably gonna start soon.”

“I will _not!"_  Izzy retorts. “Shut _up_ , Cal!”

“What’s this?” Percival lifts his head. “Isolde, have you been - “

“I haven’t!” Izzy says. “So don’t _Isolde_ me, like I’ve done something wrong. I don’t want to kiss anyone!”

“What about Stefan Van Cleeve?” Nimue says. “We know he asked you to the Yule Ball.”

“Oh yeah,” Percy says. “I’d forgotten. Cal said we had to beat him up to make sure he didn’t try anything - did you mean he’d try to _kiss_ her?”

“Ugh! So what if he asked me? I told him to go fu - uh - “ she gives her father a nervous look. “I said no thanks.”

Percival just stares at her, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Huh,” he says, and lights another cigarette, directly from the end of his last one.

Credence feels like he should say something but has no idea what. “What’s the Yule Ball?” he says.

“It’s a stupid dance they have every year,” Izzy says. “They used to do it in the European schools when they had this dumb tournament thing, but then kids kept dying so they cancelled it.”

“Kids kept dying at a _dance_?”

“No, the tournament, dummy. But some idiot decided that a formal dance was a great idea and Ilvermorny should have one every year before the winter break.”

“It’s only for the fourth years and above,” Cal says. “And you have to go with someone. As a date. Who goes with who is a huge deal.”

“Aw, Izzy,” Percival says. “You missed your first - “

“I didn’t want to go anyway,” Izzy snaps. “You think I wanted to put on a floofy dress and paint on my face so some stupid boy can -”

“You could go with a girl, you know.”

Izzy stands up so suddenly that she knocks her chair over. “Just because you’ve decided you want to kiss a boy doesn’t mean I want to kiss girls!” she snarls.   

“Okay,” Percival says. “Okay, don’t get so mad. You think I want you to kiss anyone? You’re my little girl. I don’t want you kissing at all. I’m just saying it’d be okay if you wanted to.”

“I _don’t!”_

Percival goes over to her and perches at the end of the table. “You know you can talk to me, Izzy?”

“I don’t _want_ to talk to you.”

“ _Even_ if it’s that you aren’t happy about me and Credence,” Percival says. “That goes for any of you.”

“What would you do?” Izzy says curiously. “If I said I wasn’t.”

“We’d work something out,” Percival says. “I’d still do everything I could to help him, but we wouldn’t be... together. Is that what you want?”

Izzy looks at Credence over her father’s shoulder. Can she hear his heart beating? It’s going so hard, Credence is surprised they can’t all feel it. And he can’t blame Percival for asking the question, but he wishes he didn’t have to be hear it.

“ _I_ want him to stay,” Percy says, at Credence’s elbow. “Even if it means you have to kiss him in bathrooms.” Credence laughs and puts an arm around the boy, letting him cuddle up to his side.

“Thanks, Percy,” he says to him.

Izzy huffs. “I guess he’s not a complete idiot,” she says grudgingly. “And he does love you. He can stay. I’m not mad about _him._ ”

Percival takes her hands in his. “You’re sure?”

“ _Yes,”_ she looks away from him. “Can I _go_ now? I’m not going to talk about boys with you. You’re still sick, anyway. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

He lets go of her hands and sighs defeatedly. “Okay, Izzy. You know that I love you, right?”

“I know,” she says. She gives him a fierce, quick hug and runs like the hounds are after her. Credence hears her boots clattering up the stairs and then a door slam.

“You didn’t ask us if we want your boyfriend to stay,” Cal says.

Percival raises his eyebrows. “Do you?”

“Oh yes,” Nimue says. “We like him. He’s nice. But we like to be asked.”

“You always forget us,” Cal adds.

“Forget you?” Percival puts an arm around each twin and draws them close. “I could never forget you two. Lay off your big sister, okay?”

“We weren’t doing anything!”

“I don’t see why she was so mad!”

“ _Excalibur,_ you know exactly why she was mad.”

Cal pouts at the use of his full name but he hugs his father tight, Nimue mirrors him on Percival’s other side.

“This isn’t going to work,” Percival says.

“Yes it is,” Nimue says. “It’s working now.”

Percival laughs at her, looking less troubled already as he holds the two of them. His eyes meet Credence’s and his face softens as he see Percy snuggled up to him.

Perhaps he’s thinking, like Credence is, that maybe they can make this work after all.  

 

* * *

 

By nightfall, Percival looks as drained as Credence feels. Dinner’s a quiet, subdued meal, all of them wrung out by emotion and when Credence suggests an early night, nobody protests.

Credence hesitates at the door of the bedroom he’s been sleeping in for the past week.

“Should I - “ he says. “I could sleep downstairs.”

“Do you want to?” Percival says frowning.

“No,” Credence says. “I want to be with you, but - do you want me to stay?”

Percival yawns. “Sure I do,” he says. “I gotta warn you though, I don’t think I can do much more than sleep tonight. I’m too tired for sex.”

Credence flushes from his neck to his ears. Percival chuckles and kisses his burning cheek. “Not that I don’t want to,” he says into Credence’s ear. “But I’d only fall asleep on top of you and no one wants that their first time.”

Credence turns his head so he can kiss him on the mouth. “You’re teasing me,” he says.

“Awful, ain’t I?” He kisses the tip of Credence’s nose and hands him his pajamas. “You can change in the bathroom if you want.”

Credence wishes he was bold or brazen enough to strip off in front of Percival just to wipe the smirk off his face, but he settles for kissing it off him instead.

They’re both breathing hard by the end of it, and Credence is no longer the only one who’s flushed.

Credence tugs his pajamas out of Percival’s hands. “You were saying?”

“I take it back,” Percival says and pushes him in the direction of the bathroom. “ _You’re_ the awful one.”

When Credence comes back out again, he finds Percival in bed looking at his wedding picture and his heart drops like lead.

Percival gives him a weak smile and opens the drawer on the table and places the picture in it carefully. “I can’t believe that I was ever that young,” he says. He takes out the little box Credence had found the first night, adds his own wedding ring to the two inside it and puts it back.

“You don’t have to -” he begins but Percival cuts him off.

“Yes I do,” he says. “I want you here, Credence. I want you with me, but not with her right there.”

“Okay,” Credence says. “But if it’s because of me, you don’t have to.”

“It isn’t,” Percival says shortly. He groans and flops over and buries his face into the pillow. “What a day. I should have stayed in hospital.”   

Credence sits beside him and runs a hand through his thick hair, mussing it out of place.

“‘Snice,” Percival mumbles, and pushes his head against Credence’s hand.

“You’re like a cat,” Credence tells him. “Not _your_ cat. A nice one. One that likes to be petted.”

“Toby likes to be petted,” Percival says. “But on his own terms.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“He will,” Percival says. “And he’s not a cat. Not exactly. He’s part kneazle.”

Credence stills his hand and Percival whines and nudges him to keep going.

“What’s a kneazle?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s like a cat, but magical. I think he can sense you aren’t quite normal. Give him time to get used to you and he’ll love you as much as I do.”   

Credence smiles so wide he feels like his face might split in two. Percival doesn’t seem to have even realised what he’s said, but that doesn’t matter. Credence pushes him over onto his back so he can kiss him soundly.

Percival blinks up at him when Credence lets him go. “What was that for?”

“For you. Because I love you.”

Percival smiles faintly. “You’re going to get tired of saying that.”

“No, I won’t.” Credence kisses him again. “I’ll never get tired of saying it, because I’ll never stop loving you.”

“You’re sweet,” Percival mumbles, he kisses Credence’s neck and yawns into it. “God, I’m so tired. Come to bed, will you?”

Credence clambers between the sheets to lie down beside him and Percival raises himself up on one elbow, leans over Credence and blows out the candle.

Percival kisses him as he’s plunged into darkness. He kisses Credence like he never means to stop, like there’s nothing on earth that could ever come between them. He kisses Credence like he loves him.

He does stop eventually when another yawn overtakes him. “I’ll make love to you tomorrow,” he whispers, against Credence’s lips. “I will. I’ll take care of you, I promise -”

Credence gives him a soft, slow kiss to stop his babbling “Go to sleep, Percival,” he says. “You’re tired.”

They cling to each other in the dark, a tangle of arms and legs. Percival holds Credence tight, and Credence has never been so close to anyone before, never been hugged in this way - this full-body embrace and he never knew how much he needed it before tonight.

“I love you,” he whispers, and he can feel Percival smile against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, Percival. Who wants to talk to their Dad about boys? 
> 
> I don't know if it was worth the wait, but here it is.  
> You can add make-out scenes to the stuff I can't write. Took me effing ages to write the first one.  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Liorena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Liorena/pseuds/Liorena) for advice and hand-holding while I struggled through writing this chapter.

Credence is jolted awake when Percival sits up and takes Credence with him.

“Aw, shit,” Percival hisses. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to - “ he falls silent, head cocked to one side, listening for something.

“What’s wrong?” Credence says into his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Percival kisses his forehead. “Go back to sleep. I need to check something.”

He untangles himself from Credence, gets out of bed and walks out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Credence stares after him and then lights a candle.

He frowns as he hears Percival speaking to someone.

All sorts of terrible ideas fill his head. Perhaps it’s Grindelwald come back to finish what he started. Or the President has decided that Credence needs to be neutralised after all. He’s about to get up and follow Percival into whatever situation is out there when he returns leading a sleepwalking Percy by the hand.

“I try to get to him before he gets to the staircase,” Percival says. He lifts the boy up and onto the bed with him.

Credence feels very stupid. His heart’s still pounding. He presses himself up against Percival’s back to calm himself and Percival chuckles. “Look you’ve scared Credence,” he says to the sleeping boy. “Come on, little dreamer. Time to wake up.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to wake sleep walkers,” Credence says.

“Not unless they’re somewhere safe,” Percival says. “There’s some confusion and disorientation, so you don’t really want to do it anywhere they can fall down, but it’s fine otherwise.”

“You heard him get up?”

“Yeah,” Percival says. He tilts his head back so he can nuzzle Credence’s cheek for a moment. “But I wouldn’t expect you to. I’ve been listening out for the pitter patter of little feet where they shouldn’t be ever since Izzy learned to walk.”

Percy’s eyes flutter open and he whines.

“Hey, kiddo,” Percival says.

“Dad?”

“I’m right here. Thought you’d take a little walk, hmm?”

“Didn’t mean to,” Percy yawns and snuggles up to his father. Percival sighs and then wraps an arm around Percy and tucks him into his side so that the boy’s head rests on his shoulder.

“Just for tonight,” Percival tells Credence. “Not long before daylight anyway.”

“That’s okay,” Credence smooths the lines of Percival’s forehead. “I don’t mind.”

Percival glances at Percy, but he seems to have already fallen back asleep. He takes Credences hand and kisses his fingertips.

“He’s growing out of it,” he says. “But it flares up when he anxious, or there’s a big change - he did it every night his first week at school before he settled down.”

Credence settles down behind Percival, so his back is against Credence’s chest. He loops an arm around Percival’s waist, and tucks head into the curve of his neck, so he can breath him in deeply. Percival turns his head back so he can kiss him softly, then looks back at his youngest son with an expression so tender it makes Credence want to weep.

“Cal said something about how he was born too early,” Credence says.

“It wasn’t that early,“ Percival replies. “Thirty six weeks.” He strokes Percy’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “He was so little.”

Credence smiles. “He’s still little.”

“For now,” Percival says. “Sometimes I wish they never had to get any older. They grow up so fast. Izzy’s already dating or _not_ dating boys.”

He looks so utterly miserable at this idea that Credence has to stifle a laugh.

“She’s only fourteen,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about her kissing boys yet.”  

“I was kissing boys at that age. Girls too.”

Credence kisses the back of Percival’s neck. “She’s not like you,” he says. “I mean she _is_ , but not -  not like that. She’s still a kid.”

“You seem to know her quite well. Izzy said that you weren’t a complete idiot which from her is high praise.”

Percival wraps his hand over the one Credence has around his middle. Credence hums and presses soft kisses to Percival’s neck. “I think we understand each other,” he says. “She’s angry a lot. I know what that’s like.”

“I suppose you would,” Percival lets Credence thread their fingers together and squeezes. “She wasn’t always. When their mother -” he stops and clears his throat. “When she - after - after she -”

“It’s okay,” Credence takes his right hand back so he can cup Percival’s face and tilt his head back so he can look at him. He strokes his cheek lightly. “You don’t have to talk about her unless you’re ready.”

Percival turns his face into Credence’s palm and presses his mouth to it, then he leans further back and kisses his lips.

“Thank you,” he says.

Credence blushes, but he kisses Percival again. Percival smiles against his mouth.

“We’ll wake him,” he says. “Go back to sleep.”  

 

* * *

 

 

“I know you kept calling it the Big House,” Credence whispers as he stares up at the Graves Mansion. “But this is something else.”

Percival shrugs. “It’s not that big,” he says. “For North Shore anyway. I think that would be the Fontaine’s or the Jackson's. Ours is positively tiny compared to the Fontaine’s.”

_Ours._

The thought is simultaneously heart-warming and terrifying. He’d known that Percival was rich, but he’s only now realising _how_ rich _._

It had started in the morning when Percival tossed him a bunch of keys and asked if he could drive.

“No,” Credence had said. He didn’t want to say he’s never been in a car before, forget about driving one.

Percival had shrugged and said that his hands were probably steady enough to drive. “I think it helped not being alone last night.”

“Are we taking the Rolls or the Caddy?” Izzy had asked.

“The Rolls Royce,” Percival told her. “The Cadillac’s back at the Big House.”

“You’ve got two cars?” Credence had said, and the kids had sniggered at him.

“Stop it,” Percival had scolded and then he’d said, a little sheepishly. “I've got more than two.”

“He has _five!_ ” Cal had sounded positively gleeful. “He collects them.”

“I like cars,” Percival had mumbled, bright red and Credence had been so enchanted to see him so flustered that he hadn't thought about what it meant until now.

“Alexander Fontaine is in our class,” Cal’s saying in the present. “But we knew each other before school. He’s Horned Serpent.”

“Alexander Fontaine is an idiot,” Nimue says. “But he has the best treehouse.”

“I told you we’ll fix your treehouse in the summer, Nim,” Percival says.

“I didn't mean you should fix it _now,”_ she says. “When you get better.”

“If I have time,” Percival says.

“That means never,” Nimue pouts a little but she’s too excited to sulk for too long. The children run up the drive and into the house barely waiting for the car to stop as Percival pulls up to the front door.

“You go on in,” Percival says to Credence. “I’ll park the car. Take Toby with you.”

Toby snarls at Credence when he tries to shoo him out of the car. “You’re going to have to get used to him,” Percival says and Credence is about to protest that he’s trying when he realises that Percival’s talking to Toby not him. “He’s not going anywhere.” Toby spits at him and Percival scowls. “Well, _I_ like him, you old fleabag, so play nice.”

“How old is he?” Credence says, more to prolong the conversation than anything. It’s foolish, he knows, but it doesn’t feel right to enter Percival’s childhood home without him.

“I had him since I was about ten,” Percival says, letting Toby climb into his lap. “We discovered a litter of kittens in the attic. My father took them all to work in a box and was able to give them all away except one.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Credence says. Toby hisses at him.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Percival says and Credence isn’t sure whether he’s addressing him or the kneazle.

“Is he your familiar?” Credence asks.

“No,” Percival strokes Toby’s ears. “It’s not like a No-Maj fairy tale. He isn’t literally a piece of my soul, but we did grow up together, so there is a sort of bond between us.”

“Did he like _her_?”

Toby purrs contentedly as Percival continues to pet him.

“Percival?”

“Yes,” he says, shortly, his eyes fixed ahead. “He liked her.”

“Oh.”

“Go into the house, Credence,” Percival says. “I’ll be right there.”

 

* * *

 

Credence hesitates as he comes to the huge front door. Did Cinderella feel like this on the steps to the Prince's castle before that first ball? Did she stand there in her borrowed finery, afraid that any moment someone would realise that she didn't belong there and send her back to her kitchens?

Perhaps this isn’t the biggest mansion there, but it’s no less than a palace to Credence. Percival had told him it had a spell to keep No-Majs away, but Credence doesn’t know how that’s possible. The grounds are opulent and well kept, acres of gardens and white spaces which would certainly be green in the spring, but now they’re covered with a blanket of fresh snow.

There's an honest to god fountain in front of the mansion, with statues of water sprites and nymphs and in the centre there's a beautiful goddess with a sword raised in her hand. He can only imagine how wonderful it will look with the water running.

“Nimue and Excalibur,” Cal says to his left, making Credence jump.

“What?”

“That’s the Lady of the Lake,” the boy explains. “You know, with the magical sword. There’s a theme going on here if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh,” Credence nods. “Yes. I guess I had.”

“It’s a thing with wizards,” Cal says. “Names run in families. Do you want to see the family tree? There’s about thirteen different Percivals on there.”

“Okay,” Credence says, and he lets the boy lead him inside. He wonders if Cal knows how out of place he feels and if he’d come back outside to find him. He wouldn’t put it past him. Cal has a way of seeing straight into the heart of a person, it’s how he’s able to needle Izzy and Percy so well.

He ruffles the boy’s hair in a sudden rush of affection and Cal looks up at him half-pleased and half-annoyed. He takes Credence’s hand off his head, seemingly to prevent any further caresses, and smooths his hair back down again.

“Here it is!” Cal says and he drags Credence in front of a beautiful, ornate tapestry. There are names going back centuries, back to when the family first arrived in America.

Credence doesn’t even know who his parents were.

“That’s us,” Cal points near the bottom of the tapestry. “That’s Dad. That’s Uncle Lance.”

Credence peers at the intricate stitching. “Your middle name’s Etienne?”

“Our Grandma’s side of the family was French,” Cal says. “We all have French middle names.”

“What about your mother’s family?” Credence says. “Didn’t she want a say?”

Cal shrugs. “She didn't like her name very much,” he says. “And she liked all those stories about Arthur and Merlin and Camelot. She used to read them to us, before she died.”

“You found the tapestry, hmm?” Percival’s voice comes from the door. There’s a light dusting of white flakes on his coat and in his hair, it must be snowing again and Credence is so, so grateful he won’t be spending this winter walking the streets handing out flyers.

“Percival Aloysius?” he says, and Percival smiles ruefully. “After my grandfather on my mother’s side,” he says. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Their rooms, probably,” Cal says. “Izzy said she wanted to unpack.”

“You stayed behind to keep Credence company?” Percival says. He slides an arm around  Cal’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Cal. Even though you like to pretend you aren’t.”

Cal sticks his tongue at him and Percival cuffs the side of his head playfully. “Go on, then. I know you want to see your room too - and unpack your own trunk! I don't want to hear that you talked your sister into doing it for you!”

“Fine, you won’t _hear_ it!” Cal says. Percival aims another cuff at his head (in Credence’s opinion, it’s far too slow for it to have really made impact) and Cal dodges it, giggling and runs off.

Percival watches him go fondly, the same tender expression on his face as when he’d watched Percy sleep last night.

Credence slips his arms around his waist and kisses him. “I missed you.”

“You’re being mushy,” Percival says, scoffing, but he puts an arm around Credence. “Besides Cal was there to take care of you.”

“Excalibur Etienne,” Credence murmurs. “Poor kid.”

“It’s a strong name,” Percival protests. “And he’s a strong boy.”

“He’d have to be with a name like that. Is he the older twin? I always assumed he was, but I just realised I don’t know.”

A sly grin crosses Percival’s faces. “I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to ask me that.”

“Well?”

“It’s a secret,” Percival says. “When we learned we were having twins we decided we’d never say which came first and see how they grew up without any preconceived ideas about who was the eldest. Most people think it's Cal because he’s a bit more aggressive but Nimmy’s just as stubborn as he is. She’s the one who gets her own way more often than not.”

“So it’s Nimmy then?” Credence says feeling thoroughly confused, but Percival just laughs and taps him on the nose.

“I told you,” he says. “It’s a secret. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

 

* * *

 

Percival takes him through five different sitting rooms, three for receiving visitors and two for family. Credence has no idea what the difference is. There’s a dining room that seats thirty people, and another that seats twelve. By the time Percival shows him the ballroom he’s completely overwhelmed and has to sit down.

Percival looks at him with some concern and then takes him to his study.

It’s a much more intimate room, very similar to the study in the apartment, but larger. There's a fireplace and a couch, a couple of armchairs. A huge, messy desk by the window, covered with papers and files arranged in some sort of haphazard order. Bookshelves line every spare inch of the walls.

Percival sits Credence down on the couch and wraps a blanket round his shoulders. He lights a fire with a wave of his hands.

“Better?”

“I think so,” Credence says. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

Percival sits next to him.

“It was a bit unexpected,” Percival says. He takes Credence’s hands in his. “I guess it’s all a bit too much?”

“I’ll get used to it,” Credence says.

Percival looks sceptical but he doesn’t voice his thoughts, he just reaches for Credence and takes him into his arms. Credence tucks his head into his shoulder. “I like this room,” he says.

“I quite like it myself,” he says. “It used to be my father’s - there's a charm on the door. When you enter you can’t see directly into the room. Gives me about thirty seconds to put away anything I don’t want the children to see.”

“You mean like a boyfriend?”

Percival swats at his arm lightly. “You aren’t my boyfriend. I meant like crime scene photographs.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. If I’m not your boyfriend, what am I?”

“Are we doing this now?” Percival sighs.

“We don’t have to,” Credence says, and he feels like he ought to push himself away from Percival and insist that yes they are doing this now. Instead all he does is burrow himself deeper into Percival’s arms, revelling in his warmth and the comfort of being held.

Percival kisses the top of his head. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “You can be my boyfriend if you want to be. It just sounds so… “

“What do you want to call us?”

“I’m not sure,” Percival says. “This is new territory for me. I have no more idea how to navigate this than you do.”

Credence does push himself up at that so he can look at Percival. “You mean you haven’t - since your wife died?”

Percival looks annoyed at the question. “I haven’t been entirely celibate,” he mutters. “But it never went further than a few discreet encounters. I never wanted to bring anyone home before.”

“Oh,” Credence blushes. And then he asks shyly: “Just me, then?”

“Just you,” Percival says. He cups Credence’s cheek and kisses him. Credence closes his eyes, leans into it and sighs happily.

The study door slams open, Percival jerks away from Credence as Percy’s voice whines: “Dad!”

Percival jumps up from the couch rubbing his mouth as if he’s trying to erase any trace of what they’d just been doing, and a hollow feeling settles in Credence’s gut.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps there’s something about being back in their proper home that brings out the brat in all of them, but the children spend the entire day screaming at each other and for Percival.

“Get out of my room!”

“Give that back, it isn’t yours!”

“Dad! Cal _hit_ me!”

“He hit me first!”

“Daddy! Izzy said a swear word. She called me a bad thing. She isn’t allowed!”

“I didn’t say anything to you, you little liar! Dad! She keeps coming in and moving things. Don’t touch that you little - “

“Dad!”

“Dad!”

“Daa-ad!”

Credence has never seen them like this before. It’s like a dam has broken and all their frustrations of the past few weeks have come flooding out.

Percival’s run ragged between them, but after a few hairy moments he manages to get the situation in hand. He deposits a sobbing Percy with Credence and lets Izzy sulk in her room while he reasons with the twins to stop tormenting the other two. 

“I wasn’t tormenting her,” Nimue says. “I only wanted to look.”

“I know,” Percival says. “But you know how she likes everything ordered. When you move her things she won’t know where they are. And then she has to organise them all over again.”

“She just doesn’t like me! And you always take her side!”

“I’m not taking sides, sweetheart. I’m just saying try to see things from your big sister’s point of view. She’s finally got her own room back after a whole term. Give her an evening to herself, hmm?”

“But I - “

“Don’t cry, Nimmy. I’ll talk to her. She isn’t allowed to call you names and she’s not going to get away with it, okay? And Cal, I’ve told you to be nicer to your brother.”

“You always take his side!”

“Don’t you start.”

“Why does Nim get hugs just because she cries but I get told off!”

Percival sighs and puts Nimue down. “Be _cause._ You know how bad the two of you feel when Izzy won’t let you near her, so you know how Percy feels, don’t you?”

Cal sniffs. “It’s not fair! Why do I have to be understanding just because he’s the littlest”

“That’s just how it is,” Percival squeezes his shoulder. “Come on, Cal. You’re a good kid. You have to understand because you _can_ and you do.”

“But he - “

“He looks up to you, Cal. He just wants to be included.”

Cal hangs his head and Credence thinks he might be about to cry too, but Percival gathers the boy up in his arms and murmurs to him softly until he gets a hold of himself.

By the time, Percival’s done with the twins and he’s sent them down to the kitchen to tell Bitsy to make cookies, Credence has managed to get Percy to calm down.  Percy’s much easier to deal with when he doesn’t have any of his other siblings goading him on. Credence gets Percy to tell him about the charms he’s learnt at school and lets him teach him some of them.

Credence still doesn’t have a wand yet, but he’s finding it easier to cast magic wandless than when he tries to use Percival’s. Magic helps clear his own head, and it give Percy something to focus on, to distract him from hurt feelings from the fight with Cal.

Percival gives him a grateful look and goes to talk to Izzy. It doesn’t seem to go too well to start, Credence can hear Izzy yelling and the lower rumble of Percival’s voice. Percival spends a good half hour with her, and Credence doesn’t know what he says but by the time Bitsy’s cookies are ready (and Credence doesn’t want to think about how much raw cookie dough the twins have already eaten) she’s well behaved, if quiet and red rimmed.

“I’ll show you my crystals if you want,” she says to the other three unexpectedly, once the cookies, that they eat in the small dining room, are gone. “But you can’t _touch_ them.”

Percival gives her an approving nod as they go and then slumps in his chair and lights himself a cigarette.

“Is it always like this?” Credence says. He means it to be taken lightly but Percival gives him a long, calculating look.

“Yes,” is all he says, before he gets up and unlocks the French doors leading to the garden to finish his smoke in the cold winter air.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time that Credence wakes up in the Graves Mansion is the first time he wakes up to find Percival asleep next to him. Yesterday he’d woken to an empty bed, Percival had risen early and left him to sleep, and although Credence knew he was just being thoughtful, there was something terribly lonely about the vacant space.

He raises himself up on his elbow so he can look down at Percival. He looks younger, the lines and worries of his face smoothed away by sleep. They’d both been too tired to do more than fall asleep in each other’s arms last night. Credence’s nerves still on edge with the _muchness_ of the mansion, and Percival puts on a brave front, but he’s still _recovering._

Percival’s a clingy sleeper, he sleeps with his entire body pressed up against Credence, holding him with arms and legs. Credence isn’t complaining. He likes it. It makes him feel safe and protected. _Loved._  

Credence runs his fingers over Percival’s face, over his forehead and nose and mouth and then chases them with his lips.

Percival opens his eyes when Credence kisses his mouth and smiles. “Are you molesting me in my sleep?”

Credence kisses him. “Only a little.”

“I ought to have stolen you away when I first saw you,” Percival says.

“You should have,” Credence agrees. He’s only half joking. “Why didn’t you?”

“Magical law,” Percival says. “That I took a sacred oath to uphold.”

“Well that was dumb of you,” Credence says.

“A clear lack of foresight on my part,” Percival lifts his head and licks into Credence’s mouth. It does things to him, sends a sharp, sudden rush of _want_ through him. He pins Percival back down so he can kiss him hungrily, when he hears a _tap tap tap_ coming from the window and stops. “What’s that?”

“The mail,” Percival says and wriggles out from under him. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be a minute.”

Thwarted, Credence rolls over onto his back. “Are those birds enchanted?” he asks, as he watches Percival untie a small bag from the pigeon at the window. “How do they know where to go.”

Percival pauses. “I never really thought about it,” he says. “I suppose it’s just Magic.” He spreads the fingers of his left hand at the last word, making a shower of little sparks fly from his finger. Credence giggles. “Show off,” he says.

The pigeon flies off and  Percival looks in the bag and pulls out a file that's far  bigger than should be able to fit in it. “Ah,” he says. flipping through it. “Tina  found it. “  

He gives Credence an almost nervous look. “What?” Credence says. “What is it?”

“I looked into your background,” Percival says. “Before. It’s not much but - “ He holds out the file, it’s almost empty, only one or two papers in there.

Credence stays where he is. “What does it say?” he says, making no move to take it.

Percival sighs and gets back into bed and puts his arms around him.

“Your birth mother was taken to the mission hospital by the No-Maj police on Christmas eve,” he says. “They found her fainted in the street - she was in a bad way, she was malnourished, cold, sick with pneumonia, and far along with child. When she regained consciousness, she gave her name as Mary Brown, almost certainly a fake name. The sisters remembered her as being very sweet, very apologetic for causing trouble. They said she seemed cheerful, despite how sick she was.”

“They remembered her?” Credence says. He holds on tight to Percival, buries his head in his neck and shoulder. Percival kisses the top of his head.

“They did. For two reasons. The first, she amused some of the children on the general ward by performing magic tricks, and second, she got into a fight with Mary-Lou Barebone about it.”

Credence raises his head to look at him, and Percival nods.

“Barebone was volunteering that night. She accused your mother of witchcraft, of consorting with the devil - you know, her usual racket. They had her removed, told her to go home. Shortly after your mother went into labour, and you were born the next day.”

“D-did she -?”

Percival shakes his head. “She survived the birth, but she was very ill, very weak. She developed what the No-Majs call blood poisoning and died about a week later.”   

Credence swallows and tucks his head back under Percival’s chin. “And my father?”

“I wasn’t able to trace him,” Percival pets his hair, running his fingers through it. “She didn’t seek help from other wizards, so that suggests she broke ties from our world. It’s not unreasonable to guess that she may have fallen in love with a No-Maj who either died or abandoned her, but that’s only conjecture.”

Credence kisses the hollow of Percival’s neck. “Thank you,” he says. “For looking.”

Percival lifts Credence’s chin so he can kiss him. “I’m sorry it was nothing more.”

Grindelwald must have found the file as well. He’d been so certain that Credence was a squib. But Credence doesn’t want to think about the other man right now. Credence pushes the file away and tugs Percival’s head down to make him keep kissing him.

“You were born on December twenty fifth?” he feels Percival smile against his mouth. “A regular Christmas miracle.”

Credence nips his lower lip. “There wasn’t anything miraculous about it.”

“Except for you,” Percival says. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? You’re a miracle. Never forget that.”  

Credence scoffs, but he can’t help smiling as Percival presses soft kisses against his face. This is the real miracle. That he’s warm and safe in the arms of this man that he loves.

“You know,” he says to Percival. “You did promise to make love to me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Percival smiles. “And I always keep my - “

He pulls away from Credence quickly, his eyes going to the door. Credence is about to ask what’s wrong when Percival spells it open and the twins fall into the room, giggling.

Credence flushes bright red - how much did they hear.

“Don’t worry,” Percival says, sotto voce, “That door’s sound proof. A trusted staple of magical parenting.”

“Did you wake them?” Percy peers through door. “Aw!”

“They wanted to jump on you,” Izzy says from somewhere outside the room.

“They did, did they?” Percival says. “And I suppose you were just passing by. No, no, no! No, you _don’t!”_

He throws his arm up as the twins leap, like he’s blocking an attack and the two stop, suspended in mid-air. They don’t seem to mind, shrieking with laughter, as Percival moves his fingers in a downward motion and they float gently onto the bed.

“What did I say about jumping on me?” he says.

“Not to land on your nuts?” 

“ _Cal!”_

Credence rolls over and buries his face in the pillow to hide his laughter (and also something lower that he does _not_ want them to notice). Damn the little brats for interrupting, but he finds he doesn’t mind too much.

“Hi, Credence,” Percy says scrambling up beside him. Izzy’s perched at the end of the bed, getting into a heated discussion with Nimue -  

“It was _not_ my idea!” “It was too!”

\- and Percival’s pinned Cal down so he can tickle him and Credence feels like his heart must have grown three sizes because how can it be possible to love this man, these children so much without it bursting?

“Hi yourself,” he says to Percy. “How did you sleep?”  

 

* * *

 

In the afternoon, Percival decides that the children need to start doing their homework.

“You’ve missed the last two weeks at school,” Percival says. “Might as well start catching up.”  

Izzy’s allowed to do her’s in her room, but she’s the only one Percival will trust to actually study on her own. He takes the other children and Credence into his study.

He sets the complaining twins the task of turning beetles into buttons for ‘Transfiguration’ class. Credence has no idea what practical purpose this could ever have, but Percival says you have to start small and work your way up with this sort of magic.

“But we aren’t supposed to do magic out of school,” Cal whines. Percival’s not having it.

“It’s perfectly fine with adult supervision,” he says. “Besides, I’m in charge of law enforcement. If anyone tries to arrest you, I’ll let you off. Nimue! Don’t let your beetle escape! I’ve got more where that came from. You’re not getting out of this if it runs away.”

“Do wizards always have a supply of beetles ready to turn into buttons?” asks Credence. “Can you not just buy buttons?”

“Very funny,” Percival says. He hands Credence a notebook and a quill. “You can start taking notes. I’m going to teach you the Transfiguration Alphabet. Percy, let me have your book.”

There’s a lot more to magic, apparently, than just wishing for something to happen. There’s so much to take in, and it’s been a long time since Credence has had any sort of schooling. He can read and write well enough, and he can do some fairly complicated arithmetic - he’d been handling the church’s finances since he was about fourteen. But this is new and exciting learning and he finds he quite enjoys it.

Percival’s beginning to talk him through the basics of turning a matchstick into a needle, something that Percy proudly demonstrates, when Bitsy raps on the door and announces that Alexander Fontaine is here.  

Alexander Fontaine, proprietor of the best tree house in Long Island, is not a small boy. He’s also wearing about four layers of clothing which makes him seem even bigger. He shuffles awkwardly, wringing one of his three woolen hats in his hands, as he asks if the twins can go out.

“Can we?” Cal asks Percival with big, pleading eyes.

“Take your brother,” Percival says, and Percy’s eyes light up. “And stay away from the lake. Put on your coats and things first.”

“Mr Graves,” Alexander says in a stilted, rehearsed way, as the children go to wrap up. “My Dad says he hopes you’re feeling better and that he and Mother will call on you soon and to give you this.” He pushes a letter into Percival’s hands.

“Tell your Dad I said thanks - he’s not expecting me to give you a reply to this to take back, is he?”

“No, sir. I don’t think so.”

“I’ll owl him,” Percival says with a forced smile.

“We’re all very glad you aren’t dead!” the boy says in a rush and Percival chuckles. “Thanks, Alex. I appre-”

“Ale _xander.”_

“Ale _xander,_ of course. Sorry.”

“Okay, we’re ready!” Nimue announces, as she skids into the room on stocking feet. She’s wearing mismatched gloves.

“Who’s that?” Alexander whispers nodding at Credence, who’s fallen on old habits and has been trying to read his book quietly in the corner and not draw attention to himself.

“That’s Credence,” Cal says, coming back into the room with Percy hot on his heels. “He’s Dad’s boyfriend. He lives with us now.”

“He used to kill people but he doesn’t any more,” Nimue adds. She grins, evidently pleased with herself for coming up with that description.

“ _Nimmy!”_ Percival scolds. “Don’t make up stories.”

“I’m not! It’s true!”  

“He only killed three people,” Percy assures Alexander, whose eyes are popping out of his head as he stares at Credence. “It’s not like it was hundreds.”

“Okay!” Percival says. “That’s - those were accidents and you three know it. Don’t freak out, okay kid? I haven’t shacked up with a masked killer. Would you all just go play?”

“Umm,” Alexander says, tearing his eyes away from Credence. “Is Izzy coming?”

Percival raises his eyebrows.

“Why do you want _Izzy_ to come?” Cal says.

“ _I_ don’t. But Ramses says if she wants to come he’ll - uh - show her his records.”

“I’ll ask,” Cal says. He trots back outside to the staircase and then yells at the top of his voice: “ _Izzy! Ramses Fontaine wants to neck you!”_

“TELL HIM TO GO JUMP IN THE LAKE!” she screams back.

“I don’t think she’s coming,” Nimmy says, dryly.

Credence chokes back the laughter that he’s been holding back since Nimmy had announced he used to kill people.

Percival shoos the four children out of the house with a warning to be back before it starts to get dark. He comes back into the study and shuts the door leaning his forehead against it.

“Just so you know the whole neighbourhood’s going to think that I’m screwing a hit-wizard by the end of the week,” he says.

Credence laughs. He goes up to Percival so he can hug him from behind. “They called me your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You don’t mind?”

Percival turns in his arms and smiles wryly. “I’m not thrilled at the term,” he says. “But I guess it isn’t inaccurate. And the Fontaines are just the start - we’re going to be besieged by a whole lot of curious witches and wizards wanting to see for themselves if I’m really dead or not. I’ve got to have some way to introduce you.”

“Is it safe?” Credence says. He tries to ward off the rising panic. Is he supposed to receive _visitors?_ What is he supposed to even say to them?

“We don’t have to be at home when everyone calls,” Percival cups his cheek and Credence pushes his face into his palm. “But I told you I’m not going to hide you away, Credence, and I mean it.”

“I don’t want people to know I’m an - an - “

“I won’t tell them unless they need to know,” Percival promises. “But there’s no need to hide the fact that we’re together. Unless - uh - well, unless you don’t want them to know that either.”

He suddenly seems very unsure of himself, unable to meet Credence’s eye, and colour creeping into his cheeks, and Credence doesn’t know quite what to do with that. How can it be that _he_ makes a man like Percival stammer and blush?

“That’s not what I meant,” he says. “I mean will it hurt you, being with me? How’re you going to explain what you’re doing with some - some freak who knows nothing about the your world?”

“Hey now,” Percival peers into his face. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I don’t know,” Credence says. “Just thinking about other people.”

“We’ll say you’re from Europe,” Percival says. “Or you got spell shock from the war - or you know, it doesn’t matter. No one _really_ wants to know for sure.”

“What?”

Percival leads Credence to the couch and sits him down. “People love a mystery,” he says. “So why not give them one. Sure, we could give an interview to the Ghost, clear everything up and maybe we’ll have to some day, but for now everyone will have much more fun speculating on the strange young man who’s stolen the grouchy old Director’s heart.”

“You aren’t old,” Credence says, breaking into a smile. “And you aren’t grouchy.”

“I’m a little grouchy.”

“Just a little.”

Percival chuckles and ducks his head so he can kiss Credence. “Don’t worry about the Fontaines. Let’s talk of something else. What do you want for a birthday present?”

“Oh,” Credence blinks. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“Sure I do. It’s our first Christmas together, and it’s your birthday so it’ll have to be doubly impressive.”

Credence pushes him. “I don’t need - “

“That’s obviously not true, there’s a whole list of things you _need._ But it’s Christmas and your birthday and I want to get you a present, so forget about what you need and think about something you want.”

“But I - “

“If I have to guess I’ll just get it wrong.”  

“Percival!”

Percival kisses him soundly. “Think about it,” he says. “If you could have one thing - anything - don’t worry about it being too big or too difficult. I’ll tell you if it is.”

“I don’t want you to get me anything,” Credence murmurs. “But there is something you could do for me.”

“Hmm?”

“My sister, Modesty,” Credence says. “I don’t know what happened to her after -” He stops and swallows around the lump in his throat. He’d been doing well trying not to think of her, but Percival’s right. It _is_ nearly Christmas and Credence can’t bear to think about her being all alone.

“You want me to find her?”

Credence nods, unable to speak.

“Okay,” Percival says. “I can do that. Modesty?” He looks pensive, frowning in thought and Credence thinks he has some idea of what’s concerning him.

“If she died I don’t want to know,” he says. “If I killed her I don’t want to know. So if you - “

“Shh,” Percival says. He pulls Credence close and kisses his forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. I get it. I understand.”

“Thank you,” Credence says, and okay it’s done. He’s asked. He’ll leave it with Percival and trust him to do the right thing and he doesn’t have to think of her any more.

He leans up and kisses Percival hard, catching his teeth on the other’s lip. “Kiss me,” he says. “Please.”

He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the pitying look on Percival’s face. He doesn’t want him to feel sorry for him. He grips Percival’s collar and pulls him down until he’s practically on top of him and presses his lips to the other’s over and over.

“Please,” he says. “Oh _please.”_

He’s not sure what he’s asking for, but Percival brackets his face in his hands. “I got you,” Percival says. “It’s okay, I know what you need.”  He kisses him deep and slow, and it’s so easy after that to forget everything and just concentrate on nothing but the slide of Percival’s tongue agains his own, and the way Percival touches him like he owns him, the way he puts Credence exactly where he wants him. He tilts Credence’s head so that he can get at his neck, so he can lick a warm, wet stripe down it and kiss him where Credence can feel his pulse hammering away. He whines and clutches at Percival’s hair and Percival knees his legs apart, settles himself between then and _god_ Credence can _feel_ him, feel how much he _wants_ Credence and he knows that Percival must be able to feel how much he wants this too.

“Percival,” Credence whimpers, and ruts against him. “I want, I _can’t - “_

“Let me take care of you,” Percival groans, his breath hot against Credence’s face. He lick the shell of Credence’s ear. “Let me take care of this.”

This time when lays his hand against Credence’s pants, all he does is let out a sob and push into his palm. “Please,” he says. “Please, please, _please!”_

And then Percival kisses him again, and Credence surges up to meet him, to give as good as he gets. He feels giddy, dizzy with want, like he’s drunk off Percival and his kisses and his touches but instead of being overwhelmed like before, all he wants is _more._ Percival pushes a hand between their bodies, begins to work Credence’s belt open and  -

_Give me your belt!_

\- Credence goes rigid. The belt. He’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten?

Percival stops kissing him and pulls back with a frown. “Credence?”   

Percival’s hair is messy and ruffled, his face flushed and lips swollen and kiss-stung, so unlike how put together he normally is. Credence feels another stab of desirepool in his gut and he shoves Percival off him with a cry. What sort of debauched creature is he that he could let this happen? He’d promised himself that he’d be honest, that he wouldn’t keep secrets from Percival. He’d sworn that he would tell him everything and accept the consequences, but he’d been so happy he’d let it slip from his mind.

“Credence?” Percival’s saying. “Are you alright?”  

“I can’t” Credence gasps. “Oh _god,_ I can’t”

“Hey, it’s okay” Percival says, his eyes wide and face ashen. “Credence, we don’t have to do this now. It’s okay - we can go as slow as you want. We don’t have to do anything. It’s fine. Please don’t cry.”

“It’s not that,” Credence says. He pushes away from Percival and sits on the edge of the couch. “I want to. I want _you_ so badly but -” he stops and sobs into his hands.

“Credence,” Percival says softly. He reaches for Credence but then pulls his hand back, giving him some distance. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Credence sniffs and rubs his hands over his face. “I need to tell you something.”   

 

* * *

 

Percival says nothing after Credence finishes speaking. Credence looks up at him, bracing himself for Percival to yell at him, to tell him to leave, to take out his wand and to hex him, but nothing comes.

“Percival?” Credence says hesitantly.

“I don’t beat my children,” Percival says blankly.

“I know,” Credence says. “And I wasn’t going to. I’d never planned to touch him. I don’t even think I knew what I was saying until I’d said it.”

“Most wizards do use some form of physical punishment,” Percival continues as if Credence hadn’t spoken. “Nothing like what happened to you, but spanking or a cane or - I don’t discuss my parenting methods but - most people think I’m too soft on them.”

“You aren’t,” Credence says. “You’re a wonderful father. The best. I can see how much you love them and how much they love you.“

Percival waits for him to finish, his face still deliberately expressionless, before he starts talking again.

“My father used his wand,”  he says. He lifts his own wand and makes a slashing motion over his left palm. An angry, red welt appears like he’s just been struck. Credence sucks a breath in and grabs Percival’s hand so he can soothe it somehow, or prevent him from doing it again, but the mark’s already fading.

“It doesn’t last,” Percival says. “ And it was never anything excessive. I don’t want you to think he was a cruel man. He wasn’t like your mother. He was my hero growing up - even after I was grown -  and he was always fair but I remember being afraid of him. I loved him, but I feared him. I remember if I’d done something particularly stupid I would dread him coming home,” he pauses and swallows. “I remember hoping he’d get called out on a case so he’d be out all night - essentially hoping for a murder. It was never that often, and it was never as bad as I was afraid it would be, but I remember that dread. I never wanted my children to feel that way about me.”

Credence bows his head low over Percival’s hand. Tears are pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I wouldn’t have. I didn’t. I’d never - “

“I know,” Percival says. “I can see how they are with you. They’re so fond of you and they wouldn’t be if you’d - Izzy would have said something - done something. She’d have poisoned your coffee if - don’t cry, Credence. Here - ”

He lifts Credence’s head up and wipes his tears away with one of those handkerchiefs that he always seems to have on him. He grips the back of Credence’s neck, stroking over his pulse with his thumb and Credence falls into his arms and sobs. “I won’t be like _her_ ,” he hisses against Percival’s chest. “I’m nothing like her. I don’t know why - “

“I do,” Percival says. He begins to stroke Credence’s back, his hand strong and warm and reassuring. “I understand why Credence, and we can work on it. Maybe you ought to see a mind-healer. That woman hurt you in so many ways. But you’re too strong to let her win, you’ve always been so strong.” He kisses the top of Credence’s head and Credence relaxes against him, he feels like he can finally breathe.

“Your better instincts won over in the end,” Percival says. “You were good with Percy. You’re so good with all of them - “

Credence tenses, he can feel the ‘but’ coming.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I - I -” Credence flushes with shame. “I wanted to. I just - it never seemed to be the right time.”

“There was plenty of time,” Percival says, and it’s in his stern _Dad_ voice. “You could have told me last night. You could have told me yesterday at the apartment. Why didn’t you?”

Credence’s pushes away from Percival to glare at him. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your children,” he says.

“You’ve behaved like a child. You should have told me. I get that nothing really happened. I understand it was only an impulse and you’d never really hurt them - they clearly _adore_ you, but _adults_ talk to one another, Credence. They don’t ignore their problems and hope they’ll go away.”

“Is that right, _Mr Graves_?” Credence says, bristling with annoyance. “Is that why you never told me you had children?”

Percival blanches. “Oh. Well, that wasn’t - it was - it wasn’t relevant to our - ”

“Maybe not at first but you knew I was falling in love with you,” Credence says. “You had to have known, you aren’t stupid.”

Percival looks away. “Nothing was ever supposed to happen,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Be _cause._ I’m a lot older than you, and it isn’t just the age. You were lonely and vulnerable. The situation you were in was so awful - I would have been taking advantage of you and - and strictly speaking, it wasn’t even legal if you were a squib.”

“But all of that is still true!” Credence says. “Except the part about me being a squib.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Percival says. He’s started to back away from Credence, his eyes look glassy and unfocused. “Maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe we shouldn’t -”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Credence protests. “Don’t say that!”

“You’re right, you know,” Percival says faintly. “I did know.”

“So you understand then,” Credence says. “You know why I didn’t tell you yesterday.”

Percival nods. “Of course, I know,” he says. His voice cracks on the last word.

“Then why are you - what’s _wrong_? Percival, look at me!”

“I wanted you,” Percival says. “And I told myself I didn’t. I told myself I wasn’t doing any harm by meeting you. I told myself it wasn’t hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me!”

“Didn’t I? Aren’t I still hurting you?”

“No,” Credence says. “I _love_ you. I don’t care about any of that. I love you. All of you. All of _them_. I’d cut my own hand off before I raised it to your children. I won’t be like Ma, I swear.”

“I know,” Percival says. “I know you wouldn’t hurt them, but I just think about all you’ve been through - “ Percival puts his head back in his hands. “Fuck, what am I doing with you? To you? God, you’re so _young_.”  

“I’m twenty four. Almost,” Credence says. “That’s old enough to know that I love you.”

“I’m not debating whether you love me or not,” Percival says. “I know you love me. That’s what makes you so young - that you think love can fix everything. When you get to my age you’ll learn that isn’t true.”

“How old are you?” Credence says, tight-lipped. “You make it sound as if you’re ancient.”

“Thirty eight,” Percival says. “And I know it may not sound like much, but when Isolde was born, you would have been ten.”

“And you were my age when you had her,” Credence says. “I can do sums too. So that means you were even younger when you married their mother. Why was it okay for you to know what you wanted then, but I’m too young?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because we were the same age for one thing. And it's one thing to have a baby - don’t you get it Credence? It isn’t just about me. I have to think about what’s best for my children.”

Credence swallows around the lump in his throat. “So it _is_ because of Ma?”

“What?”

“You think I’d treat them the way she treated us? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“What? No! Of course, not!” Percival grips Credence’s upper arms and peers into his face. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?” Credence says. He pushes forward, so he can wrap his arms around Percival, and rest his head on his shoulder and Percival stiffens for a moment, but then he puts his arms around Credence as well.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt them,” he says. “Not like that.”

“Is it because of -”

“No!” Percival takes Credence’s face between his hands, lifts his head up gently so he can look him in the eye. “It’s not because of your Obscurus.”

“I’ll let them do it,” Credence whispers. “If that what it takes, I’ll risk it. I’d rather die - I’d rather never do magic again than be without you.”

Percival kisses him, and it’s raw and harsh and punishing. “You can’t just say things like that,” he growls. “You have no idea what you mean.”

“Yes I do,” Credence pushes Percival hard, pins him back against the cushions. “I’ve died once remember? And I’d do it again because it would hurt less.”

Percival lets out a shuddering, broken breath, his hands are trembling as he reaches for Credence. This time Credence meets him halfway in a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue. There’s no finesse to it, just aching and need.

Percival wrenches his mouth away and kisses the side of Credence’s neck, just under his jaw. “It isn’t you,” he whispers. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Credence’s heart sinks. “What is it then? Don’t you love me?”

Percival leans his forehead against Credence’s shoulder. “ _Credence_ ,” he says helplessly.

“I’d understand if you didn’t,” Credence says. “But I think you do. I _know_ you do.”

“It doesn’t stop, you know,” Percival says. “I’ll always be their father. Even when they’re at school I’m always being dragged down there because Izzy told one of her professors to fuck themselves, or the twins decided to throw a bezoar in their common room fire to see what would happen. And Percy ran away _three_ times in his first month, he said he missed me and the last time I was tempted to just keep him with me because -”

Credence kisses him to shut him up. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

“I don’t want you to choose me over them,” Credence says.  “I’ll never want that.”

“Good,” Percival says hoarsely. “Because I won’t. Do you understand that? You can never come first. Listen; whatever Grindelwald could have done to me - what he did to me -“ Percival’s hands shake and Credence grips them tightly and leans forward to kiss his mouth, but Percival turns his head away. “If I’d let him stay, Percy would have been with me,” he whispers. “If he had been, if Grindelwald had him, or any of them - I’d have told him everything. He could do all he liked to me, I didn’t tell him anything, but I’d have given you up in a heartbeat, not just you - everything, _anything_ if it kept him from hurting my children.”

Percival’s still looking away from him, so Credence kisses the corner of his mouth instead. “So?” he says. “Why do you say that like it would upset me?”

Percival turns his head, “Doesn’t it?”

“You’re their father. Of course you’d do everything to protect your children. I get it - what sort of person would I be if I wanted you to put me before them.”

“You deserve to be with someone who would.”

“I don’t,” Credence insists. “ _No one_ deserves that. You know what my Ma was like. She’d have thrown me on a fire if you told her it’d help the cause - if she knew I was a wizard, she’d have done it anyway. Parents _should_ protect their children. They should love them before anyone else. What would I be if I expected you to choose between us? And that’s not what I asked. I asked you if you love me.”

Percival runs his thumb over Credence’s lower lip. “I don’t not love you,” he says, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Percival!”

“I haven’t said it to anyone since Annie died,” Percival says, quietly. “Not in that sense. I say it to the children.”

“Oh,” Credence sits back.

“I’ll always love her,” Percival says. “That sort of thing doesn’t just go away - but I love you too.  And I don’t know if that’s enough. I don’t know what I’m asking of you. Or if it’s even fair to ask, and I don’t know how any of it fits together -Mmph!”

Credence kisses him again.

“Stop doing that!”

“I don’t want to” Credence straddles Percival’s lap, and puts his arms around his neck.  “I want you to kiss me. I like it when you kiss me.”

He isn’t sure if Percival even realises that he’s said _I love you_ , but that’s all Credence needed to hear. Percival loves him, and that’s all that matters.  

Percival runs his lips over the column of Credence’s throat, bites his neck, and Credence whines and clutches at him.

“This isn’t going to help -”

“I don’t care,” Credence says. “It won’t make things worse.”

“It might,” Percival says, but he tangles his fingers in Credence’s hair and drags his head down to kiss him hard until Credence is breathless and wanting.

“I do love you,” Percival whispers, gasping into Credence’s mouth. “Oh, _hell!_ How could I not? I love you Credence, but it’ll never be enough. It won’t be enough, and one day you’ll see that and I -”

“Shut up,” Credence says. “ _Shut up_! You’re a stupid idiot with a ridiculous face and you need to shut up and kiss me.”

“Credence -”

Credence grabs the collar of Percival’s shirt and hauls him towards him. “I love you,” he says fiercely. “And I love your children. And I know it won’t be easy - none of this has been _easy_ , but as long as you love me, you’ll always be enough.” He grips Percival’s face between his hands and kisses him and kisses him. And Percival kisses him right back, and Credence might be crying a little, or maybe it’s Percival. He can taste salt on his lips and his cheeks are wet but it doesn’t matter. Percival loves him and nothing else matters.

Percival pulls back and wipes his face with his sleeve. He wipes the traces of tears off Credence’s face gently, kisses him softly, and then he grins, sharklike. He twists and flips them, so that Credence finds himself underneath him, on his back, his legs around Percival’s waist. Percival kisses him deeply, his tongue pushes in alongside Credence’s and its demanding and possessive and perfect.

“Wait -,” Credence gasps, when Percival lets him up for air.

“I don’t want to,” Percival murmurs teasingly. He kisses the side of Credence’s face, nuzzles against his neck. “Is it too much?”

“No,” Credence grinds up against him. “No it's not too much.”

“What then?” Percival bites his neck again and he’s going to leave a mark, but Credence finds that he likes that thought.

“Lock the door, Percival,” Credence whispers in his ear. “Daddy’s busy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're almost done folks! Just a lil' epilogue left and I can put this story to bed.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end! Sorry it's so short and it took so long, but I think it was because the story was basically over so I had a little trouble wrapping it up properly.

One of the best things about not being poor anymore is not being cold all the time.

Through the window Credence can see it’s starting to snow again and he’s glad he’s no longer has to stand on street corners when the wind’s sharp as a knife and the cold and wet seeps through to his very bones until he can no longer feel his feet or hands or face.

The church had been a poor shelter. It was drafty and the roof was always leaking. They were very rarely able to light a fire. They could never afford it, all the money went towards the cause. The only time Credence was ever warm during winters is when he was cooking for more children than Mary Lou could afford to feed. He’d never minded helping in the kitchens, even if it meant Mary Lou would wake him up at four to do it and strike him with her ladle when he displeased her, which was often. But as the years passed, Chastity was the one who had kitchen duty and Credence was sent out to spread the word.

He’s deliciously warm now, from the fire burning in the grate, from the blanket tucked around him, and from Percival spooned up behind him, holding him close to his chest.

They’re both naked under the blanket and Credence hadn’t thought he could ever be comfortable enough to lie with someone this way, had never believed that anyone would ever want him enough to touch him, had never imagined that anything could make him feel so good.

Percival had used a cleaning charm on both of them, and a healing one on Credence, whispering that he doesn’t want him to be _sore_. Credence thinks he wouldn’t mind a little soreness, that it might serve as a reminder every time he feels an ache of what they’d done, and what it means.

Next time, he thinks and smiles secretly to himself.

“Percival,” Credence murmurs twisting around in his arms, and his boyfriend - his _lover -_ grimaces, makes a complaining noise, and wraps his arms tighter around Credence.

“Shh,” Percival says, and kisses his shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know,” Credence says, “but what if the kids come back.”

“Door’s locked.”

“You don’t think they’ll bang on it until you let them in?”

Percival just buries his face in Credence’s neck. “They can wait,” he mumbles.

“Do you always get this tired after - ow!” Credence squeals as Percival bites him “Insolent boy,” Percival growls. “Wait until I’m back to normal. I’m gonna wear you out like that terrible suit of yours.”

Credence giggles and leans back to nip at Percival’s lower lip. “Is that a promise?”

“You’re terrible,” Percival says. “I’m not a young man anymore.”

“You’re young enough,” Credence pushes up against him. “What’s that got to do with it anyway?”

“It means I’m not ready to go again at the drop of a hat, unlike _some_.”

“Aren’t there spells for that?”

Percival bites him again. “I’m going to take great pleasure in taking you apart,” he says directly into Credence’s ear. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be  -” he interrupts himself by yawning widely and Credence can’t help but laugh at how put out he looks.

“You were saying, _old man?”_

“You’re terrible.”

“And you’re mine.” Credence kisses him. “And I love you.”

Percival smiles at him, eyes tired but full of affection. “I love you too,” he murmurs.

“We really should get up though,” Credence says. “You could go to bed if you’re tired. You only got out of hospital a few days ago.”

Percival pinches Credence’s bottom and clambers over him. He mumbles that he’s going to shower to wake himself up.

“Okay,” Credence says and tries to keep a straight face as he watches Percival gather up him clothes. He’s about ready to fall asleep and Credence can’t hold back the grin any longer.  The thought that he’s the reason Percival’s so tired, that _he_ could have worn a man like this out - admittedly, the man’s still recovering from his ordeal and nowhere near his full strength, but still.

After Credence puts his clothes back on, and Percival’s gone upstairs, he isn’t sure what to do with himself. It’s very quiet with the three younger children out playing - and shouldn’t they be home by now? At what point are you supposed to go out and call them in? And if he were to go and look for them, where would he go?

Credence hasn’t even seen the grounds yet, and he’s less than keen to run into any of the neighbours, No-Maj or witches. What’s he supposed to do if he see’s a No-Maj?

He’ll ask Percival later, some other day when his head is less full of the man he loves, and who finally _finally_ admits that he loves him back.

He could go read a book or work on his magic, but that would mean going back into the study, and well there’s no way he’s going to get any work done there remembering what’s just passed between them. He never known anything could feel like _that_.  

“Why are you standing in the middle of the hall grinning like that?” Izzy says.  

“Like what?” Credence says, turning around quickly. He tries to straighten his face.

“Like an idiot,” the girl narrows her eyes. “You look like you're pleased with yourself.”

“I’m just happy,” Credence says. “That’s allowed, isn't it?”

“I guess,” she says with a shrug. “I suppose you enjoyed being left alone with Dad or something - “ she stops and her eyes go very wide. “ _Oh - ewww!”_

She really is far too observant for her own good.

She runs back up the stairs, almost colliding with her father.

“Woah!” Percival says. “Where’s the fire?”

Izzy looks up at him, at his wet hair and pulls a face. “You - you just - but - you’re _old!”_ she says to him and bolts.

“What the hell was that about?” Percival looks after her.

“Nothing,” Credence says. He slips his arms around Percival’s waist. “She’ll get over it.”

“Get over what?” Credence tugs gently on his wet hair and watches his face go red.

“Ah,” he says. “Right. Do you think I should talk to her?”

Credence giggles at the look on his face and kisses his blushing cheek. It’s clear that Percival has no desire to talk to his daughter about it.

“I don’t,” Credence says. “Poor girl. Leave her alone and pretend she didn’t see or realise anything. I can’t imagine anything she’d hate more.”

“Yeah,” Percival agrees and puts an arm around Credence’s shoulder. “She did say she didn’t want to talk to me about _boys.”_

The sound of excited voices comes from further down the hall, followed by a gust of cold air from the front door that they’ve no doubt left open and Percival leans up to kiss Credence. He pulls away with a wry smile as the three younger children come crashing along and stop when they see them.

“Were you _kissing?”_ Percy says severely.

“Yes,” Percival says. “Where’s your scarf?”

“Um - “ Percy feels around his neck in a panic. “I had it on a minute ago!”

“I thought I told you to look after him,” Percival says to the twins. “And out of the three of you, could no one remember to shut the door?”

“They were behind me!” Cal protests.

“I was not!”

“Yes, you were!”

Percival waves them off and walks away to close said door.

The three children are bright eyed, faces flushed from the wind and cold outside, melting snow on their hair and clothes. They’re happy and tired and Credence wants to hug all of them, so he does.

“What was that for?” Cal says, wrinkling his nose.

“I felt like it,” Credence says. “I missed you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Nimue sticks out her tongue. “You were too busy kissing Dad.”

Credence is about to say that he didn’t spend all his time kissing their father - which isn’t technically a lie, they did many other things besides kissing - when he hears the loud, tell-tale crack of a wizard apparating behind him.

The man is tall and broad, with long grey hair that doesn’t quite meet his shoulders. He’s wearing a large stetson and a two gun holster around his not immodest waist as well as the wand clutched in his hand.

“Percival!” Credence calls, stepping in front of the children, but they push past him and run to the man.

“Uncle Lance!”

Credence heaves a sigh of relief and embarrassment. Of _course._ Uncle Lance. Percival had said he had a brother. And now Credence isn’t panicking he can see that Lance is raising the same impressive pair of eyebrows at him that his brother has.

“Damn, you’ve all been growing again,” he says to the children. “Stand back and let me look at you.” He toussels their hair and chucks NImue under the chin, then takes off his hat and drops it on Percy’s head. Lance looks up and smiles at something behind Credence.

“Hey kid,” he says. “Heard you were dead.”

“Not yet,” Percival says. ”You took your time.”

“You know how it goes, boss,” Lance says, “mustn’t compromise the mission.” He goes over to Percival and wraps him in a bear hug that almost lifts him off his feet. “Put me down, you idiot!” Percival yelps, but he hugs his brother back just as fiercely.

Lance lets him go and nods his head towards Credence with a grin. “You gonna introduce us or what?”  

“Credence,” Percival says. “This is my brother, Lancelot. Lance - “ he takes a deep breath and reaches for Credence’s hand. “This is Credence. My boyfriend.”

 

**The End**

 

 

Sneak Peak for Part 2 of the “Literal Daddy: Percival Graves” series:

**Less than Kin, But More than Kind**

 

“There’s something you should know,” Percival says.

Picquery inclines her head in question, but Percival avoids looking at her.  

“Lance arrived two nights ago,” he says and Picquery’s whole posture changes.

“I see,” she says. “Will he be staying for the holidays.”

“Yeah,” Percival says. “He says he’ll stay 'til the kids go back to school.”

“And how is Lancelot?”

“Older,” Percival says. “Greyer. Fatter. I think the job’s catching up with him. He asked how you were.”

Credence can see the woman start to melt. “Did he? And what did you tell him? “

“That you were fucked,” Percival says. “That we both were.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've stuck with this story until the end, thank you! It's the longest thing I've ever written and I'm actually quite proud of myself for not giving up on it! That's partially due to everyone's encouraging comments and kudos. 
> 
> If you'd like to see more of this little family, keep an eye out for the sequel: Less Than Kin, but More Than Kind.
> 
> PS: [Uncle Lance](https://abi-does-stuff.tumblr.com/post/164364364551/lancelot-graves-from-less-than-kin-but-more-than)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the [Honour Thy Father](https://abi-does-stuff.tumblr.com/tagged/honour-thy-father) tag on my [tumblr](http://abi-does-stuff.tumblr.com) for character/fic edits, upcoming snippets etc.
> 
> I made some face cast, character moodpboard/aesthetic things for the kids: [Izzy](https://abi-does-stuff.tumblr.com/post/163205833476/isolde-graves-from-honour-thy-father-izzy), [Percy](https://abi-does-stuff.tumblr.com/post/163453516126/percival-graves-junior-from-honour-thy-father-he) and [the twins](https://abi-does-stuff.tumblr.com/post/163479052286/nimue-and-excalibur-graves-from-honour-thy-father).


End file.
